


Stardust

by UltimateFangirl125



Series: Sympathy for the Devil [3]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: ILY, ITS DONE, ITS OVER, Incest, M/M, REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, SETH THIS ONE'S FOR YOU FOR BEING WITH ME SINCE THE BEGINNING I LOVE YOU MAN, YOU'RE MY NUMBER ONE BITCH, anyway, anyway love you bye, holy shit i can't belive its over, i'll warn you in the notes so you can skip that if you wanna, its been real everyone this is my magnum opus, its over so dont worry about sequels, possible trigger warning for pedophillia, tell me if i need to tag anything else, uMMMmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFangirl125/pseuds/UltimateFangirl125
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Riley, who proofread it.  
> Seth, who loved it.  
> And Mads, who cheered me on.  
> You're all my number ones, and I love all of you with all my heart!!!!!!!

**January 1 st, 1975, 07:00 AM**

**Activation**

Five years.

1827 days.

Had it really been that long already?

As Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov got out of bed, he pondered that question. Five years had gone by so quickly it was almost scary. It was New Year’s Day, which meant his birthday would be coming up in February. He would be 28 then, and that alone was frightening enough, but what was even scarier was that it had been five years since he’d been rescued from the Commander. Five years since he’d seen Volgin.

As Ivan looked out his window at a few of the other soldiers shooting off leftover firecrackers for the new year, he couldn’t help but wonder if Volgin would ever come back for him. Well, a lot could change in five years, but a lot could also stay the same. Ivan was convinced that love was one of those things.

***

“Hey! S-Swan!” As Ivan took a walk outside, he heard an annoyingly familiar voice and turned to see an equally annoying face.

“Hi, Emmerich…” He cringed as the man wheeled up to him. He’d shared one conversation with the engineer, and ever since Huey had been convinced they were friends. If Ivan were a little less pitying of him, he’d tell the man to fuck off, but as it was, he was at least a little useful. It was nice to have someone to repair his radio or watch when he needed it.

“Hey! Um, can you c-come with me for a bit? It’s important.” Huey seemed nervous about something, whatever it was, and Ivan wasn’t doing anything at the moment.

“Sure. Why not?” He followed the man back to his workroom and watched Huey move a few things around with heavily shaking hands. Something was definitely wrong.

“You’re French, right?”

“Half French, yes.” Ivan’s English had gotten considerably better over these past five years, but he still maintained his Russian-French Frankenstein’s monster of an accent.

“I thought so. Well, there’s something I need, and it’s in France. I need someone who’s fluent to go and get it.” Huey said, flipping clumsily through files.

“What is it?”

“Just a piece of equipment for something I’m building.”

“There are plenty of soldiers fluent in French. Why do you need me?” Ivan pondered.

“I heard through the grapevine that you spent some time in France several years ago. Am I right?” Huey asked, nervous tone in his voice abandoned. Ivan’s mind raced back to his late teenage years and the hell he’d endured. He remembered tangled sheets and the pinch of needles piercing skin, the taste of sin and sweat, and the weight of the world on his back. Ivan felt his stomach churn. Nobody should know about that.

“Wh… Who told you-?”

“Oh, I just heard it around! So, will you do it?” Huey’s nervous disposition returned, and Ivan felt his entire body go cold as the man looked back at him and handed him a file.

“I suppose I could… When do you need-?”

“Oh, I don’t need you to go until March 16th.”

“Then why tell me this early?” Ivan said, a bit afraid to mention the oddly specific somewhat faraway date.

“I just figured it would be better for you to know early so you can go ahead and get your affairs in order!” Huey said cheerily, moving over to the blonde and reaching up to pat him on the shoulder before making direct eye contact. Ivan’s heart leapt into his throat at the man’s next words. “I like you, Ivan Raikov. I like you a lot.”

“Th-thank y-?”

“That’s all I need! You’re free to go!” Huey wheeled back over to the other side of the room quickly, and Ivan got out of there quickly. Damn, Emmerich was a weird guy.

A weird guy that knew things that he really shouldn’t know about Ivan…

***

“Emmerich’s being weird again,” Ivan announced, sitting down next to his only friend on the base for lunch.

“Oh god, you don’t think he’s got a crush on you too, do you?” Strangelove chuckled, stabbing her salad with a fork.

“Ugh, I really hope not. Maybe he’s finally figured out that I’m gay, and he’s nervous to be around me now.” Ivan laughed. He and Strangelove had hit it off immediately when she had arrived on the base, both of them bonding over how hard it was to be gay and surrounded by straight people all the time. Strangelove liked Ivan, because he was the only man she’d ever met who she wouldn’t have to worry about falling for her, and Ivan like Strangelove because she shared his aggravation with Emmerich, and even held it much more than him. They both had stories about the Boss, too, so that was something else to talk about.

“For both our sakes, I just hope he figures me out next.” She mused, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. “So, Happy New Year.”

“Yeah, Happy New Year!” Ivan said, sighing and poking at his food. “Damn, 1975 already. I’m gonna be making mistakes on my paperwork for a few months.”

“I know how you feel. Isn’t your birthday coming up?”

“Kinda. Not until February. It’s on Valentine’s Day. I don’t think I ever told you that.” Ivan laughed, blushing. “The ultimate gay birthday, am I right? My parents should have known.”

“If only it was that easy,” Strangelove laughed, “that’s cute though. Mine’s in October, so I’ve still got a way to go. Still, what do you want for your birthday?”

“Oh god, I don’t know. Records? You know I like Elvis.”

“Alright. I’ll try and find you something. So, what was Emmerich doing that was so weird this morning?”

***

Worlds away, a girl with brown hair was on her way to a meeting. Of course, her transportation there wasn’t what was typical of someone going to a meeting. She was currently unconscious with a burlap sack over her head, being hefted into the back of a truck. When she woke up, she would be face-to-face with a man she had only heard stories about. What she would hear upon waking, like a butterfly flapping its wings, would change the world forever.

“Miss Katya Bisognin, I have a job for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**March 16 th, 1975, 00:00 AM**

**Madness Begins**

 

Ivan got off the plane and met the man at the airport. So far, all was going just as Emmerich had assured him it would. The man gave him the address he would need to pick up Emmerich’s package, and Ivan hailed a cab.

Elsewhere in the world, the man known as Big Boss was infiltrating Camp Omega from its southern cliff.

***

**March 16 th, 1975, 03:02 AM**

**Detonation**

Ivan’s mission was complete, and he would be catching a plane (property of Mother Base) back home in a matter of minutes. He waited by the landing zone with his prize sitting next to him, inconspicuously packaged in plain cardboard. His stomach growled, and he wondered what would be for breakfast in the morning.

***

Fire.

Right now, that was all Ivan could see, all he could hear or think or feel.

The whole world was on fire, and he was watching it burn.

He wanted to vomit, to scream, to cry out, but none of those things would happen.

His body was processing what he was seeing, but he couldn’t do anything. He was reminded of a time when he was little, and he sat for longer than he would like to admit watching a candle. Just watching the tiny flame dance back and forth and watching the colors. He didn’t even notice how bright it was until he looked away, finding only the dark imprint of it on his vision.

Now, years and years later, that insignificant memory seemed magnified by millions and millions of times as Ivan watched the place that had been his home for the last five years burn. Gunfire and explosions invaded his senses, and he knew they were being attacked. But why? How? Ivan’s mind moved like the gears in it had been gummed up by saltwater taffy, and the only thing he could wonder was how many of the people he knew and worked with, how many people he had held pleasant little conversations with, people who had let him borrow a pen or let him have the rest of their pudding, how many of those kind little people he had never given a second thought to were dead?

When Ivan’s eyes left the flames, the dark imprint of them stained his vision, and then it engulfed it.


	3. Chapter 3

_The two brown-haired boys sat on the floor playing checkers, a game that their younger brother had a notoriously short tolerance for. This brother, the only one of the three Raikov children with his mother’s silvery blonde hair, sat in front of the man babysitting the three of them, staring at him intently. This man was nearly seven feet tall, heavily scarred, and currently sitting on the couch reading a book._

_The three young boys’ parents were out to dinner, and had called upon their close family friend to watch their three children. The youngest, Ivan, was still just learning to read, and was trying to make out the word on the cover of the book in fancy lettering._

_“Lo… Lo-lee…” He attempted, frowning as he tried to read it, and huffing in frustration. “Mr. Volgin, what are you reading?”_

_“A book.” The man replied, marking his place and closing the book, looking down at the boy challengingly._

_“A book about what?” Ivan shot back, crawling up on the sofa next to the man._

_“A man.” Volgin replied, a hint of a smile gracing his face._

_“What does the man do?” The boy insisted, snatching up the book to inspect it._

_“Something bad.” Volgin said finally, taking the book back and setting it down on a table. The boy looked at him skeptically, challengingly, before crawling into Volgin’s lap and looking up at his face._

_“Where did you get all those marks?” The boy asked, placing a small hand on either side of the man’s scarred face._

_“Lightning.” He answered._

_“No you didn’t! Stop lying!” Ivan said, looking even more suspicious._

_“No, I really did. I have scars like this all over.” Volgin said, rolling down his sleeve to expose a large scar along his arm. Ivan’s eyes widened and he let his fingers wander over the thick, rough skin._

_“You really really did?” He asked, looking up at the man intently._

_“I did. And do you want to know a secret?” He asked. Ivan nodded, baby blue eyes wide in breathless wonder. “That lightning is still in me.” He said, tapping the boy on the nose and delivering a small static shock. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough for the boy to believe him._

_“Oh wow…” He muttered, rubbing his nose. As he was distracted, Volgin looked at the clock._

_“And now, it’s time for you to go to bed, little one. Your parents said you needed to be asleep by 8:00, and it’s already 8:10.”_

_“But I’m not sleepy!” Ivan protested, yawning loudly. Volgin smiled and picked the boy up, carrying him to his room. As the man whisked Ivan away, he leaned his head on Volgin’s chest and closed his eyes. He listened hard, and could hear his heartbeat. It was a gentle sound, but Ivan could hear its steady rhythm as the man walked up the stairs._

_Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump…_

_When they reached his room, Volgin helped the little boy into his pajamas and tucked him into bed. There were no ulterior motives in his actions. No love or lust. Just a shy nostalgia and the memory of braiding long honey-blonde hair and singing a little girl to sleep._

_“Do you need something before I leave?” he asked, ruffling the boy’s hair gently and making it stick up with static electricity._

_“A bedtime story?” Ivan asked sleepily, looking up at Volgin pleadingly._

_“Alright,” Volgin smiled, sitting on the edge of the small bed and weighing it down. “I think I’ve got one. It’s about a girl I used to know.”_

_“What was her name?” Ivan asked, curling up and holding onto his pillow._

_“Her name was Gala, and she was a lot like you.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**March 18 th, 1975, 03:02 AM**

**Fallout**

Ivan had told himself that coming back to this house was a mistake.

He told himself to find some small apartment in Italy and make a new name for himself. He told himself to call Aly or Stas, to go back to Belarus.

He told himself to do anything but open that door.

He opened it.

The house, as he expected, was empty. Nobody had been in it for a very long time. So that was it, then. Volgin had never returned to their small house in the country. Ivan wanted to say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. He had known, deep down, that something had been very wrong for a long time. Volgin would have come to get him long ago if he was still alive. So, here Ivan stood, in the place that had welcomed him with open arms at the tender age of fifteen, a new orphan with no place to call his own and no brothers to care for him.

And here he stood one again in this house’s open arms, just on the precipice of shattering, looking in from the outside. If he crossed that line into the house, he would surely die of heartbreak. He knew it to be true even as he took that step into the echo of the place that had once been heaven.

Time seemed to have stopped on that cold day in February when everything fell apart. Volgin must’ve panicked, because there was paper everywhere. Things flung to the floor in haste as if he’d been searching for something. A chair was on its side, collecting dust. Ivan looked around at the papers on the floor and shut the front door behind him. He picked up a loose sheet and looked at it.

A drawing.

He remembered this one. It was simple, and insignificant in the mess, but it was something he drew once long ago. He was still happy then, still in love, still gliding along on the honeymoon bliss of his reunion with his lover. The drawing was a rough sketch, but not a half bad one. It was of Ivan’s lover sitting by the window, reading the newspaper. As he looked up to that window, it was almost as if the echo of that memory still lingered. He could almost see his paramour still sitting there as he drew, pencils and paper spread out on the floor like he was a child again.

_“Stay still! I’m trying to draw you!”_

_“Vanya, I have to turn the page. I can’t just read the same article over and over while I’m waiting for you to finish.”_

_“Hush. Of course you can.”_

Ivan set the page down on the floor and walked over to the stairs. He could almost see himself sliding down the bannister, a childish grin gracing his face. He ascended the stairs, and they creaked under his boots. Another reminder that it had been a long, long time since someone had used them. Ivan lingered with his hand on the bedroom doorknob for a moment, breath held still. He felt frozen in time, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for all the memories and emotions that lay in wait on the other side of that door. Well, he had to face them sometime. Better sooner than never, he decided. He turned the dulled, dusty knob and pushed open the door, which groaned in protest. He whispered an apology, but he didn’t know why.

As soon as he opened the door, it was like having all the air knocked out of his lungs. In the room sat a queen-sized bed, the sheets flung off in haste. On either side of the bed was a small table with a lamp. On the left table sat a book with a bookmark stuck in it, and a couple of framed pictures.

In one of the pictures were two people. One was a tall man, a rare smile on his scarred face. His arm was around boy with messily cropped silvery hair and a shy smile, braces on his teeth. The second picture was of the same two individuals, but there was a noticeable gap in time between when the two photos were taken.

In this second photo, the boy’s braces were gone, and only straight teeth were in their place. His smile was much more confident in this picture, but he still looked quite childish. His hair was longer, though equally choppy, and he sat outside by a lake, under a tree. He was wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a pale blue sundress. The pictures were coated in a layer of dust, and so was the book.

On the right side of the bed was Ivan’s table. This table held only one picture, and an alarm clock. The picture was old, that much was obvious, but it was still in good shape from being kept in the frame. In it were five people: two adults and three children.

The man in the picture was tall and stern looking. His eyes, though you couldn’t tell because the picture was in black-and-white, were a striking green color. His hair was dark, and a pair of glasses was perched on his sharp nose. He was dressed in a military uniform.

Next to him was a woman. She had long, pale blonde hair that was swept into an effortless braid over her shoulder. Small wisps of curled blonde hair framed her face, and her eyes were a lovely blue in contrast to her husband’s green. She was almost ethereal in her beauty, and wore a simple, practical dress with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her face was lined with age and worry, but this did nothing to diminish her loveliness. If anything, it enhanced it.

In front of this couple were two boys who looked almost the same. You would have said they were twins if you didn’t know better. One was a bit taller, and he was the older of them by two years. He had green eyes and dark hair like his father, but had more of a rounded nose like his mother. He stood tall and looked serious, but there was most definitely an air of childishness in his eyes.

His “twin” was shorter, and had his father’s sharp nose and mother’s blue eyes. He wasn’t even trying to look serious, and a wide smile stretched across his face. His hands were on the shoulders of the fifth and final person in the picture.

The last child, upon first glance, would be very hard to pin down as either a boy or a girl. This child, though young, held the ethereal beauty of the mother, but the somewhat sharper nose of the father. After looking for a moment or so, you could determine a more boyish look to the child, and then you would notice his shy smile. His two front teeth were gone, leaving a gap in their place. One could imagine the lisp the boy would have when talking. In the photo he wore a small black and white striped tank top. On his arm, you could see a scar from his smallpox vaccine, and on the bridge of his nose was a bandage. Altogether, the five of them seemed like a perfectly normal family.

Now, twenty-odd years later, that little blonde boy in the picture was a man, a man with no home, no friends, and nowhere to go. He stood in the doorway of his room for a grand total of five minutes before he walked over to the large, dusty bed and curled up under the covers. He buried his face in the pillow on the left side of the bed, and all it took was smelling the scent of a familiar cologne and the man who was once an energetic, loving, excitable little boy shattered into a million little pieces.


	5. Chapter 5

**March 11 th, 1984, 03:02 AM**

**Songs of Darkness and Dismay**

Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov woke up to his favorite song on the radio. Normally, this would have been a good omen for the day ahead, but Ivan hadn’t believed in omens, especially not good ones, in a very long time. Dragging himself out of bed, Ivan walked down the stairs in his pajamas and went to make coffee.

As he poured himself a cup of the black liquid, he added cream and sugar until the coffee didn’t taste like coffee anymore. He may have been a masochist, but he definitely wasn’t enough of one to drink black coffee. He looked at the calendar. It was March now, which meant he was 37. He had once again forgotten his own birthday, but there was no point in getting upset over it now.

“Damn,” he mused aloud, having nobody in the house to hear him but the rats hiding around, “I’m almost 40, and I haven’t done anything with my life.” Of course, this wasn’t entirely true, he supposed. He had been a soldier for a while, but after the incident at Mother Base nine years ago, he hadn’t exactly been eager to get back out in the field. It was, in his mind, a mix of survivor’s guilt and cowardice that kept him rooted in his small cottage in the Russian countryside. He was alone, and he wasn’t bothered by anyone. That was good enough for him. Still, there were some days he wished he’d gone to art school like he used to dream of. Hell, he was almost positive there was nothing he could really do with his life at this point. He’d dropped out of high school at fifteen, and most places weren’t keen on hiring a 37-year-old with a ninth-grade education. The way he made money to get food nowadays mostly involved selling his body. It wasn’t necessarily ideal, but it was something. Of course, he was getting older now. He knew he wouldn’t be able to feign childish innocence forever. His multitude of scars probably didn’t do anything to win people over either. Well, aside from the letters burned into his chest that spelled out “WHORE”. Those seemed to be somewhat popular with his customers.

Ivan drained his coffee and set the cup down in the sink, promising himself that he would do the dishes later that day. He’d been promising himself that for a week now. As he sat down on the sofa and opened the book he was working on, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and brought it with him. One of the best things about being a loner was that nobody could tell him not to drink whiskey for breakfast. So, that was what he did. He drank, and he read, and when he could no longer make sense of the words on the page, he closed the book and slept like the dead. It may not have been a happy existence, or even one with meaning, but it was his, and Ivan could live with that.

***

Sleep brought with it a series of unrestful dreams of revenge against Katya, the woman who had betrayed Ivan and Volgin all those years ago. Perhaps, in another world, she would have been considered a friend, but as it stood, Ivan could imagine no greater pleasure in life than finding that traitorous bitch and ripping her throat out with his teeth. Well, nothing except trading her life for Volgin’s. Now that would truly be something.

Ivan woke to the sound of someone knocking on his front door. This alone was very wrong, as nobody had knocked on that door… well, as far as Ivan knew, nobody had ever knocked on it. He stood up, head spinning, and shambled over to the door. He looked through the peephole and saw a man standing there with silver hair and a red scarf. Ivan saw something familiar in him, though he couldn’t place it in his drunken state. He opened the door, frankly not caring if the man had come to kill him. At this point, Ivan would welcome death like an old friend.

“Hello, Major.” The man said in perfect Russian, taking Ivan by surprise.

“Nobody’s called me Major in a very long time.” He said, sobering up somewhat, “I haven’t _been_ a Major in a very long time.”

“Well, forgive me. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen you… Vanya.”

Hearing the term of endearment made Ivan’s blood boil. He pulled the man inside and slammed the door behind him.

“Who the _fuck_ are you, and what are you doing in my house?” He growled, clenching his fists at his sides. A sad look crossed the man’s face.

“You really don’t remember me, do you? Ivan, we were friends for a long time. Ever since you were fifteen. Of course, I guess we’re both pretty old now, huh?” the man held out his hand for Ivan to shake, “Don’t tell me you don’t remember Adamska…”

A rush of memories came flooding back to Ivan then, and he could see his old friend now in this man’s sad eyes. He could remember sharing lunch with a boy only a couple years his senior back in Groznyj Grad, and he could remember their little fights and tousles. He could see the hours of time spent talking about their taboo attractions to men together as teenagers, whispering and talking shit about everyone like they owned the place.

“Adamska… Ocelot?” Ivan sputtered, looking at the man who was once the closest thing he had to a friend in Groznyj Grad twenty years ago. Ocelot smiled warmly and opened his arms. It had been so long since Ivan had seen another person, let alone a familiar face, that he gladly accepted the hug. It was so refreshing to feel someone’s arms around him, warm and safe and comforting, that he couldn’t help but start crying. He completely lost himself in that moment, crying harder than he had since he had walked into the gloomy house nine years ago.

“Ivan, how long have you been living here alone?”

“Nine years…” Ivan sobbed, tightening his grip on the friend who had changed so much. “Why are you here, anyway?” he asked, finally backing away and wiping the tears from his face. Ocelot’s face changed, and he became more grave.

“I don’t know if you heard about what happened after Mother Base was destroyed, but the Boss went into a coma. The other day, he woke up.”

“He was in a coma for nine years?” Ivan asked incredulously, eyes wide.

“Yes. We managed to keep him alive and get him out safe. We’re starting Mother Base up again. But this time, we’re going to be the Diamond Dogs.”

“Why tell me, then? I’m just an unemployed drunk without a high school degree pushing forty. I don’t know why you’d want me to be any part of this.” Ivan asked, walking over to the couch and picking up his bottle of whiskey to take a long swig from it.

“Believe it or not, someone at Mother Base really wants you back there, _Lonely Swan_.” Ocelot said, smiling coyly and taking a seat next to Ivan on the couch.

“Oh really?” the younger man said, handing Ocelot the bottle, “And who might that be?” he asked, eyes wandering over to the other’s. Ocelot smirked and gratefully took a swig.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replied, shooting Ivan a look full of something the younger hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me, _Major_.” Ivan flirted, leaning forward. A vague thought of “what the hell am I doing?” crossed his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he had nothing left to lose. Why not flirt? It wasn’t like he had anyone to be faithful to. Besides, he was better off flirting with Ocelot rather than some stranger in a bar to get free drinks.

“Well,” Ocelot drawled, “maybe I did, _Major_.” He leaned towards Ivan in return and setting the whiskey bottle down. Ivan’s heart began to beat with new life, pumping adrenaline into his veins. Ocelot’s fingers slowly moved and met the other man’s. It had been a long, long time since either of them had felt contact like this, with as much meaning as this. Ivan could smell the alcohol on both of their breaths, and he was almost sure Ocelot could hear his love-starved heart pitter-pattering in his chest like a butterfly flapping its wings. Ocelot reached up and gingerly ran gloved fingers through Ivan’s pale hair, pulling the younger man to him for the first meaningful kiss either of them had had in years. In that moment, Ivan felt himself weaken to Ocelot’s kiss. Lips met lips and tongues moved like waves, pushing against each other only to recede for a moment before repeating. Ivan felt himself crawling into Ocelot’s lap and letting out desperate noises, getting close to him, desperate to maintain human contact for a moment longer.

However long they remained there, locked in a desperate embrace, they didn’t know, and they couldn’t bring themselves to care. All they knew was that one moment they were kissing as if it was their last day on Earth, tears falling from Ivan’s eyes like waterfalls, and the next they were waking up together in Ivan’s bed, the air thick and heavy with the scent of sin and sweat and broken vows.

Shame.

That was what Ivan felt.

It was all he could feel, burning up from the intensity of his betrayal. He felt as if he had shattered something delicate, crushed some lovely flower, and looking at the tossed sheets now, he felt as if he had broken some unspoken rule, as if he had sodomized that rule. As if he had raped it. When he rose, he felt guilt seize him, the first real emotion he had felt in a long, long time. It wracked his body, and he immediately retreated to the bathroom, not wanting to be stuck looking at Ocelot’s sleeping form on Volgin’s side of the bed anymore.

He showered, wishing it were as easy to wash the sin from his soul as it was to wash blood and sweat and other fluids from his body. He was disgusted with himself. All he could think now were thoughts that pervaded his mind like intruders in a house, thoughts that were not fully his. Dark, twisted thoughts that plagued his mind. He was no stranger to these thoughts, having them almost every day, but they were never this intense.

_You filthy little traitor. You whore. The Commander was right to burn that on your chest. You’re disgusting. You should just kill yourself now. It’s not like anyone would care. Just go downstairs and get that rope you’ve been saving._

Ivan tried his best to ignore the thoughts, and once they had subsided somewhat, he found himself oddly comfortable. This, of course, was only the eye of the storm; one minute later he vomited.

***

Ivan found Ocelot downstairs, dressed and sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee.

“Why are you still here?” Ivan didn’t mean for it to sound hostile, but it must have sounded so, because Ocelot looked slightly offended.

“Because you never gave me an answer.”

“Oh, you still want me there? Wait, I get it now. I know why you want me.”

“Really? Enlighten me.” Ocelot replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I know why you came here now. You need a whore on Mother Base.”

“What?”

“You came here to take me for a test drive, didn’t you? You heard good things about me, and you wanted to see if they were true. God knows Mother Base needs a glorified sock for the soldiers to ease their tensions on! Well you know what? Fine. I understand. It’s not like I was ever any good at anything else anyway. So go ahead and pay me. I’ll take fifty and we can go. I don’t have anything to pack.”

“Ivan, that’s not at all what I-!”

“Just… Don’t. I don’t have the patience for this. You come into my house, and you get me to break that easily…” Ivan’s voice trailed off, and he lost his balance. He fell to his knees and put his hands to his face, sobbing hard. Suddenly, he felt Ocelot’s hands on his shoulders and couldn’t bring himself to push the other man away.

“Ivan, I didn’t come here for any other reason than to bring you home. I wasn’t lying when I said someone wanted you on Mother Base. I don’t know whom, but I got a letter. Someone wants you back there. I’m sorry about what happened last night, but I promise you I didn’t plan any of that. We were both a little drunk and hadn’t been around someone familiar in so long… I’m sorry. I really am.” Ocelot said, tilting Ivan’s chin up to look him in the eyes. Ivan sighed, defeated. There was no point in trying to stay in this old house full of memories and pain anymore.

“Fine. I’ll go.” He muttered. Ocelot smiled and leaned forward to kiss the other man. Ivan put a hand over his friend’s lips. “Not here. Never here again. It would kill me.” He said, voice wavering. He pushed Ocelot away and went upstairs to throw together a suitcase.

God, what was he _doing_?


	6. Chapter 6

**March 25 th, 1984, 23:06 PM**

**Chrysalis**

The girl was bandaged heavily, tubes doing most of her breathing for her. She was seared inside and out. There was a very small chance she would survive. At least, not on her own. Skull Face was determined not to lose his best agent so easily. It was settled then. The only option left was the parasites.

“Katya,” he said, catching the girl’s attention. Her bright green eyes met his. “Your only option of survival is parasite therapy. It will heal you, but there are side effects. You will no longer be fully human. Your DNA will become part plant, and you’ll breathe through your skin. You won’t need to eat or digest. You’ll exist off of photosynthesis. Water will heal you. And one other thing…”

The girl’s eyes were on him, attentive and alert as always.

“You won’t be able to speak, in the technical sense. If you speak any language, the parasites will activate. You know how they work. The only language you’ll be able to speak is Navajo. But, you’ll be as good as new, as well as being able to disappear and reappear at will. After this, you won’t remember anything but today. Nothing but your mission. I want you to infiltrate the Diamond Dogs and wipe them out by speaking English. Kill them from the inside. Do you accept your mission?”

With a heavy breath as if the world was on her shoulders, the ever-loyal Katya gave a single, excruciating nod.

“Good. Then from this day on, your name is no longer Katya Alessandra Bisognin. From now on, your name is Quiet. It’s the only name you’ll ever need again.” Skull Face removed the vial of parasites from his pocket and removed the breathing tube from Katya’s throat and tipped the vial back. She breathed in the creatures and he slammed her mouth shut, giving them a chance to attach themselves to her vocal chords. Her eyes widened in pain as the things pinched onto her vocal chords, making her whimper in pain. Her reaction only lasted a moment before her eyes closed and her heart monitor flat lined.

Three hours later, she was leaving the hospital, healed perfectly and completely nude. In her mind, all that mattered was her mission. Kill the Diamond Dogs.

***

**March 28 th, 1984, 12:00 PM**

**Arrival**

The base, to say the least, was much different than it had been years ago. It was tall and with orange-red metal. It was still somewhat under construction with signs everywhere telling their observers to please be patient with the construction. Ivan was assigned a room with three other men. They were all reserved and kept to themselves, which was fine by him. As Ivan took his first stroll around the base, he found a familiar face.

“Miller!” He said, waving and running towards the blonde man. Kazuhira Miller had been somewhat of an acquaintance to Ivan on the old base, close in age to the Russian boy. Looking at him now, Miller looked much older than his 37 years. Not to mention. “Miller… Your arm…”

“Swan? Lonely Swan? Damn, I hardly recognized you! You look like hell!”

“Yeah, well, nine years on your own will do that to you… But seriously, what happened?”

“Ah, I was a prisoner in Afghanistan for awhile… They got my arm. One of my legs too.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry… That’s horrible…” Ivan muttered, searching Kaz’s face. The man shrugged and sighed.

“It’s still something I’m getting used to I guess. So, how’d you hear about the new base?”

“Ocelot came and got me. He said someone wanted me here.”

“Really? Well, I’m not too fond of that guy. I’d keep an eye on him if I were you. He’s not exactly known for his fidelity. Anyway, I’ve got some paperwork to take care of. I’ll see you around.” Kaz said, limping away. Ivan nodded and walked off in the opposite direction. Damn… Poor Miller… Ivan knew how it felt to be a prisoner, stripped of all dignity and tortured mercilessly. He realized now how lucky he was to get out in one piece. Still, seeing Miller so torn up… It was disheartening to say the least. He promised himself that he’d try and keep the man’s spirits up. Even if they hadn’t been exactly close on the first base, losing everything had opened Ivan’s eyes. He could lose these people any day. He had to make the most of his time with them. Ivan smiled to himself and pulled his new official Diamond Dogs-issued Walkman. He put on a pair of headphones and pressed play. The first few notes of a familiar song by David Bowie graced his ears, and he continued his walk, new life and a new beginning filling him with determination.

_Ziggy played guitar…_

***

**April 8 th, 1984, 14:08 PM**

**Butterfly**

Quiet.

It was a fitting name.

The girl mused this to herself as she stood under a waterfall, cleaning the dirt from her muscular body. There were very few things she knew about herself, and her name other than her codename was not one of those things. All she could remember was a man telling her all she needed to know: her name, her mission, and what she could and couldn’t do. As the water ran through her hair, she hummed a tune she didn’t know the source of. If she could have, she would have sung out loud, but as it was, she continued to hum a song about gifts and love. She rinsed the blood and dirt from her hair, watching the dried brown-red stuff fall into the water and disappear.

But yes, her name was Quiet. She knew this to be true as she bathed in the water of the wilderness, and she decided that it was a good name. She was Quiet. She was the absence of words. She quite liked that, though it was odd to get used to not talking. Still, taking a shower had not left her feeling this good in years. She felt refreshed and rested. The only problem now would be clothes. Obviously wearing too much would cause her to suffocate, but how was she to cover herself without dying? She decided that she needed a decent amount of skin showing in order to survive. What that would entail, she wasn’t quite sure, but she knew she couldn’t just walk around naked.

As she planned her future wardrobe, Quiet heard a twig snap. She turned around quickly, eyes scanning the foliage for any outline of a human being. She found one easily, and vanished into thin air without hesitation.

The man who had been spying on the bathing beauty looked around in confusion, wondering where she’d gone. Quiet stood behind the man, invisible, and contemplated snapping his neck. She figured it wasn’t worth her time, since he probably hadn’t seen her face and didn’t know anything about her. With that, she wrung out her wet hair and walked away. All she had to do now was find something to wear and some weapons, and she would be ready for her mission.

Poised, like a cobra, to strike.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possible pedophilia warning. Skip this chapter if you need to. You won't lose any plot.

_The beach was an entirely new concept to Ivan, and anyone could see that just by looking at the excited boy running through sand. As he ran through the dunes, he let out joyful cries and giggles that echoed around the near-empty place. Volgin stood back and watched the boy kick up sand while the sun made his hair shine like spun gold._

_Just like Nadine’s had all those years ago._

_Volgin tried to forget the image of his childhood sweetheart, honeyed hair flying behind her as she ran through the sand like Ivan was doing now. It was there, though, burned into his mind’s eye just like the scars in his skin._

_“Daddy!” he heard Ivan cry, and turned to look. The boy was smiling, braces showing, and holding up something. He was sixteen years old now, officially of age, but he still acted so childish. Of course, in comparison to Volgin’s fifty-two years, Ivan would always be a child to him. “Look! I found a shell!”_

_“Bring it here, Vanya! I want to see.” Volgin replied, smiling at the boy’s excitement. He watched as the boy jogged over, gentle blonde curls (humidity always made his hair curly for some reason) bouncing up and down as he went._

_“See?” Ivan held out a large, pale pink conch shell._

_“That is a nice one, Vanya. Is there still something in it?”_

_“Nope! I checked. It’s empty! Which means it’s all mine!” Ivan smiled and put the sandy shell in his bag, standing up and brushing sand off of his long legs. Volgin took a moment to simply admire the ethereal beauty that his tiny lover possessed: hair like milk and honey and eyes like sapphires, skin like a porcelain doll’s currently stained pink from exposure to the sun. He knew that Ivan would complain about his sunburn later that night, but he wouldn’t object in the slightest to having lotion rubbed on his sensitive skin. A tiny, wet, sandy hand clutching at his own interrupted Volgin’s thoughts._

_“Yes, moya kroshka?” He asked, looking down at the boy._

_“Kiss me! Nobody’s here to see it!” Ivan’s sun-pinkened cheeks grew pinker still as he spoke, smiling as if he was about to get away with something he really shouldn’t be doing. Of course, neither of them should be doing any of this. This was wrong and dirty and seven different kinds of illegal and-_

_“Please?”_

_The one word, formed by soft pink lips and followed with a pout and a blue-eyed gaze that made even the Thunder God’s steel heart melt like ice was enough to convince Volgin._

_“Alright, but just a quick kiss.” He said, knowing that he shouldn’t indulge the boy’s every want, but it was just so hard to deny such a sweet, childish request. Ivan’s face lit up and he took Volgin’s other hand in his. Standing on his toes to reach as best he could (this didn’t do much since he was still only about 5’4” at that time; shortness ran in his family) and gently closing his eyes, Ivan awaited his kiss. Volgin looked around again to make sure there really was nobody there before crouching down to deliver._

_It was moments like these when he liked to recall words that Vladimir Nabokov had used in the book Lolita that had particularly stayed with him: “…I was in paradise. Paradise whose skies were the color of hellflames, but a paradise, still.”_

_In this brief moment of aloneness with his darling Vanya, that was what this was: their own sinful paradise. The boy wrapped his long, skinny arms around Volgin’s neck, and the man lifted him up so they were even. Ivan wrapped his legs around Volgin’s torso to move closer to him and kissed him once again with vigor. Young pink lips met Volgin’s scarred ones, and he held his young lover as if the boy would disappear as soon as he let go. He felt Ivan’s lips part, giving permission for Volgin to deepen the kiss, and the man gladly accepted. The noises Ivan made alone were reminders enough of why they stayed together, why they always would stay together. Suddenly, the boy pulled away, face flushed and breathing hard._

_“Take me back to the hotel.” Ivan breathed, voice barely audible over the crashing tides._

_“Anything for you, my Lolita.”_

_Oh, they could be SO arrested for this_


	8. Chapter 8

**April 10 th, 1984, 07:00 AM**

**Shame**

Ivan woke with a familiar coil in his lower abdomen and blush staining his pale cheeks. He felt a hot wave of shame after waking up from the dream, wishing he could just let go of all the memories from his days of youth and sin and lust. It was to no avail, and he hid his face in his pillow until the feelings subsided.

***

When he pulled himself out of bed, Ivan decided that he needed to be worth something to the Diamond Dogs if he was going to stay there. All he needed to do was find someone experienced enough to train him. Sure, he knew how to shoot, and he could do that relatively well, but he needed to know more than that. So, he wondered, who would be the best person to train him? At the moment, he didn’t want to face Ocelot after their tryst back at the cabin, so who else was there? Suddenly, someone came to his mind, and he knew exactly whom he wanted to train with.

***

Ivan hadn’t seen Big Boss since 1975, when everything fell to pieces. He was, admittedly, a bit nervous to talk to him, but that was irrelevant. He needed to learn to properly defend himself, and he knew the Boss could teach him. As Ivan approached the man’s office, he felt his stomach twist into a knot of nervousness. Still, he knocked on the door with a clenched fist.

“Come in,” a gruff voice replied, and Ivan opened the door.

“Hello. Um, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you… I don’t even know if you remember me, but I was wondering… If… It isn’t too much trouble… I need someone to train me. I need to be better at self-defense. I know you learned from the Boss, and I…” He trailed off, uncertain. Big Boss looked up with his one tired eye, and studied the younger man.

“Ivan Raikov,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair and taking a break from the paperwork on his desk. “Yes, I remember you. It has been awhile, hasn’t it? Training, huh? Doesn’t Ocelot do that?”

“He and I have… History. You understand, right? Besides, he didn’t train with the Boss. I met her; I knew her a bit. She was a wonderful woman, and she must’ve been incredibly skilled. Volgin was certainly intimidated by her. So, I was just thinking… Her prodigy could teach me better than Ocelot…” Ivan mumbled, wringing his hands and looking down at his boots. He heard Big Boss sigh as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. Ivan supposed that, in a way, it was. He rocked nervously back and forth on his feet like a child who was waiting to get in trouble for something; a habit he had not quite outgrown.

“Fine.” The single word had an air of finality to it, and took Ivan by surprise.

“Huh?”

“I said fine. Meet me in the training area at 05:00 tomorrow morning and we’ll start your training. If you’re late, then don’t bother coming, and don’t ask me again. Got it?”

“Y-yessir!” Ivan chirped, saluting awkwardly. The man dismissed him, and Ivan walked out feeling both intimidated and victorious.

***

**April 11 th, 1984, 12:00 PM**

**Witchcraft**

Ivan let out an involuntary whimper as Venom pinned him to the ground again. They’d been at it for hours now, and Ivan hadn’t made much progress. The older man held the younger down by the throat, nearly crushing his windpipe. Ivan’s face flushed, and he felt the same familiar coil of arousal in the pit of his stomach. Venom looked at him as if he was less than nothing, as if he was an unpleasant stain on his boot. Ivan had to fight the urge to let out a moan and beg the man to kiss him. Venom stepped away and released Ivan’s neck. The bell rang for lunch, and as Ivan was about to walk away to the mess hall, Venom’s hand on his chest stopped him.

“I didn’t say you could go, kid.”

“But it’s lunchtime. I need to eat.”

“Well that’s too bad. You’re not leaving until you can pin me to the ground.” Venom said, brushing the dust off his clothes. Ivan rolled his eyes and pouted, ever the petulant child Volgin had fallen hard for all those years ago.

“Like that’s going to happen. You’re twice my size!”

“Well, you wanted to learn the Boss’ methods, didn’t you? I watched her get Volgin and I on the ground in a matter of seconds. So stop bitching, and start trying. This isn’t a game, kid. It’s war. Now square up.” Venom replied, giving Ivan another look. The younger frowned and glared, taking his hands out of his pockets and slipping into a fighting stance. As Venom swung a punch, Ivan’s instincts kicked in, and he twirled out of the way. The movement itself was somewhat reminiscent of a pirouette, a fading muscle memory from Ivan’s days in his mother’s old French ballet school. Venom looked at the boy in confusion before throwing another punch, and Ivan once again managed to barely evade him in a similarly graceful manner. While Venom assessed the boy’s movements in his head, Ivan took the chance and tackled him to the ground. He heard the older man let out a noise like the air was being knocked out of his lungs.

“Damn, kid!” Venom coughed after managing to pull air back into his chest, “Where the hell did you learn to move like that?”

“Oh! Well, um…” Ivan avoided the man’s gaze, awkwardly straddling him and blushing heavily. “I used to be a ballerina. When I was little. I asked Mama if I could take classes, so I stayed at this old ballet school in Paris for a while. Mama was French, and she used to go there, too. I guess it’s sort of a leftover instinct.” He muttered, praying to god Venom couldn’t tell how aroused he was after having the shit beaten out of him.

“Huh. I think we could manage to work with that, actually. You’re small, so you’ve got some impressive speed to you.” He sat up, Ivan still on his lap, and smiled at the boy approvingly. “Good job, kid. That’s enough for today, but I expect you back here the same time tomorrow. Now go get your lunch.” He said. Ivan stood up, nodding furiously. As Venom stood up, he clapped Ivan on the back, and the younger turned away to walk to the mess hall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, possible pedophilia warning. You know the drill.

_It felt strange not to be able to see, but Ivan was sure he was definitely going to enjoy what was to come. A blindfold was tied around his head to cover his eyes, and a gag was firmly placed in his mouth. He was hanging by his wrists, and his feet were a few inches above the ground. He wished he could look around to see where his lover was, but he couldn’t. A chill ran down his spine as a cold gust of air blew across his naked body._

_“Vanya,” Volgin’s rough voice seemed to ring through the room, and Ivan felt his heart begin to pound, “Are you ready?” Ivan nodded in response, and he felt the hair all over his body react to the static in the room. “Alright. Then I’ll begin.” The man said, a careful tone in his voice._

_The feeling began as a pleasant buzz, and Ivan let a whimper escape from his throat, only to be stopped by the gag in his mouth. Suddenly, the buzz began to intensify, and Ivan felt the pain prickling him all over, rocking his entire body._

_Then, just as soon as it began, it was gone. Ivan whined in protest, and felt the gag being removed from his mouth._

_“Are you alright, Vanya?”_

_“Yes, I’m fine, Daddy. You don’t need to worry about me, I told you! That was fun! And it felt nice… Can you do it some more?” He bit his lip, and would have fixed his paramour with his signature earnest look had his eyes been visible._

_“Fine,” Volgin sighed, “But I’m keeping the gag out of your mouth this time in case it gets to be too much and you need me to stop.”_

_“Okay! Please, just do it. It felt so nice…” He whimpered, rubbing his legs together wantonly, and making his lover’s heart beat a little faster in the process. Volgin took a step back and gave Ivan a warning before beginning again._

_As soon as the electricity once again began coursing through his body, Ivan let out a loud cry of pain and arousal._

_“Daddy!” he cried, whimpering as he felt Volgin’s administrations grow stronger, “I feel… Good… P-Please don’t ever stop. More!”_

_Volgin listened to the boy’s pleas, and increased the voltage. His Ivan knew his limits. If he was hurt or wanted to stop, he’d tell him._

_Several minutes and several more ups in voltage later, Ivan was still begging for more. Through his cries and wails of pain and pleasure, he kept asking Volgin for more and more._

_“I promise I can take it! A-ah! It… Hurts… Daddy, I feel… Good…” He whined. With one last ounce of energy, Volgin gave him another few volts. Ivan could handle it, he was sure. Ivan was very mature for his age. He knew his limits. He wouldn’t just-!_

_“AGH! Oh god! Please stop! It hurts! It hurts! I can’t take anymore! Please Daddy, stop! I can’t-!”_

_Absolute silence._

_It seemed to echo through the room as Volgin ceased his administrations, running forward to check on his small lover. He sliced the rope that was holding the boy up, and caught him. Laying Ivan gently down on the ground and removing his blindfold, Volgin reached up to his Vanya’s neck and checked for the usual gentle rhythm there that would signal life._

_He found none._

_As Volgin looked Ivan over once more, he began to panic. Oh god, what had he done?!? He was the adult! It was his job to keep Vanya safe! What would he do now? He couldn’t take the boy home dead, and he certainly couldn’t let anyone know how this had happened. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. Electric shocks could bring people back, too, couldn’t they?_

_Placing one hand over Ivan’s heart and one on the small of his back to hold him up, Volgin shocked him gently._

_Nothing._

_He increased the voltage._

_Nothing._

_He tried one last time, and as soon as he finished, he felt the boy burst to life in his arms. Ivan gasped for air, and his heart was pounding hard._

_“Oh my god!” He cried, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks, “Oh my god! Daddy, oh god… Holy shit… What…? What happened? Everything hurts… Daddy, I really don’t feel good… I think I want to go home…” The boy whimpered, clutching onto Volgin like a lifeline. The man held his lover close and kissed his head._

_“Don’t worry about that now, little one. Just calm down, and we’ll get your clothes on so you can go home. You need to just take a deep breath and get your heart pumping right again. I’ll tell you later.”_

_“N-no, Zhenya, I need to go home, or to a doctor… I really, really hurt…” Ivan sobbed, shaking like a leaf._

_“Vanya, what do you mean? Where do you hurt? Show me.” Slowly, Ivan sat up and showed Volgin his chest. There was a deep burn there with some blackened skin around the edges. The shape looked almost like… Volgin paled._

_A handprint._

_Panic began to set in, bringing with it a hot wave of guilt. Ivan needed to go to a hospital immediately. Volgin decided it would be best for the boy to go without a shirt so it wouldn’t irritate the burn (Volgin was willing to bet there was one on the small of the boy’s back just like it) and dressing the boy hurriedly, they got in Volgin’s car._

_***_

_Volgin sat outside the hospital room, waiting. He hadn’t been allowed in to see Vanya, since he wasn’t family, and he was dying to know if his darling was okay. He heard the door open and looked up hopefully, only to see a tired looking blonde woman standing there: Camille Raikov._

_“Camille! How is he? Will he be okay? What did they say about-?” His words were cut off by a sharp slap to the face that hit him so hard his ears were ringing. People turned to stare, and Camille looked at Volgin as if he were something particularly unpleasant she had stepped in._

_“Third degree burns, you brute.” she snarled. Volgin’s heart beat faster. “Come with me. I want to talk to you in private.” The woman said. She may have been much smaller than Volgin, but in that moment he was deathly afraid of the tiny French woman. If she had figured out about him and Ivan, god only knew what she would do and whom she would tell. Volgin complied, and walked after her. He followed her out to an empty courtyard._

_“Camille, I-!”_

_“Hush. It’s my turn to talk. So sit down and listen to me.”_

_Volgin obeyed. A moment of silence passed, and the woman took a deep breath. When she spoke, it was all in rushed, angry French that he didn’t understand._

_“Qu'avez-vous fait à mon bébé? Il est juste un enfant, Yevgeny! Qu'est-il arrivé? Comment est-il blessé? Pourquoi as-tu fait cela?” She looked at him expectantly for a moment, and then sighed in frustration. “Listen, he’s going to be fine. He’ll have scars forever, but he’ll be fine. All I want to know is… Why? Why would you betray a little boy who admires you so much?!? Why would you hurt him like that?!?”_

_Volgin’s silence could have filled a room, had they been in one. Instead, it seemed to linger everywhere, like vultures circling above a dying man in a desert. Camille waited, but when it became clear that she would not receive an answer, she crossed her arms. “I am going to give you one day, today, to say goodbye to my baby. After that, I don't ever want to see your face again. Stay away from my children, Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin, or I will make your life a living hell.” Her voice was completely void of emotion, yet it sent chills down Volgin’s spine. He nodded, and she walked away, leaving him to sit alone, the looming consequences for his sins circling above him like the ominous vultures of silence._

_***_

_Ivan was groggy when Volgin walked into the room, but his face lit up nonetheless. Volgin felt that welcoming, forgiving smile tug at his heartstrings like an anchor, bringing him back once again to reality. He was not a tragic hero, and Ivan was not his princess. He was a sinner and a criminal, and Ivan was a boy robbed of his innocence by a monster. Volgin had made his peace with this before entering the room, but looking at those big blue eyes and impossibly perfect blonde curls, he wanted so badly to be a criminal if it meant getting to see that smile and hear that sweet laugh every day until he was dragged into a jail cell and murdered._

_“Zhenya! I’m sorry they wouldn’t let you see me sooner. Mama and Papa are really upset about it, but it’s okay! I told them it was an accident!” Ivan chirped, reaching out his arms for a hug. Volgin sat down in the chair next to the boy’s bed, knowing that if he hugged him now, he would never let go._

_“Vanya, I’m afraid we’re going to be spending some time apart.” Volgin watched as the boy’s smile faltered, and then dropped altogether. It was like watching a balloon deflate._

_“Wh… What? Why?!”_

_“Vanya, your mother figured out that it was me that hurt you. She wants me to stay away from all of you from now on.”_

_“B-b-but…” Ivan’s eyes filled with tears as the news began to dawn on him, and his lower lip began to tremble, “You can’t go! I need you! I love you!” Ivan cried in protest. Volgin looked at the boy, and it really dawned on him how damn young Ivan really was._

_“Vanya, I’m sorry. This is the way it has to be. I’m no good for you. I’m a monster. I’ll destroy you.”_

_“Good! Maybe I want to be destroyed! It would be better than being alone!” Ivan sobbed into his hands, whimpering. “T-take me with you, please! We can run away together! Change our names! You know I’ve always hated Belarus! We could go to Moscow or Italy and make a new life together!” he begged._

_“Ivan, what about school?”_

_“…they have schools in Moscow…” Ivan muttered angrily, pouting up at Volgin, who smiled wistfully. He cupped the boy’s cheek in his hand, and wiped a tear off with his thumb._

_“Ivan, kitten, you know I love you. This is just something that has to happen. We both knew this could never last. It was like poison, little one. I’m poison.”_

_“Why do the deadliest poisons always taste the sweetest?” Ivan mused, holding on to Volgin’s jacket as if he were never going to let go._

_“I don’t know, darling.” Volgin sighed, “But I need to go. If I stay any longer, I’ll never leave, and your parents will have to come and shoot me.”_

_“…One last kiss?” Ivan proposed, fixing Volgin with that wanton gaze one last time. The man sighed, smiling sadly._

_“I never could resist those pretty blue eyes of yours, my little Vanya. Alright, one last kiss. After that, I need to leave.” Hearing the man’s words, Ivan nodded and closed his eyes, leaning forward. Volgin placed one hand gently on the back of his small lover’s head and pulled him in for a kiss._

_As their lips met, a small spark of electricity passed between them._

_They didn’t notice._

_***_

Ivan sat bolt upright in bed as lightning crashed outside his window. He gasped for air, tears already running down his face. The memory had triggered something in him, and suddenly it was like his scar was a new burn again. Hopping out of bed on shaky legs, he walked quietly to the bathroom mirror and unbuttoned his shirt. As usual, the scar was still just that: a scar. It was vaguely hand-shaped, and surrounded by smaller markings that looked like small bolts of lightning themselves. There was another scar on the small of his back just like it, and a large, deep, ravine-like scar connecting the two. Ivan felt like fire was running through him between those two scars, and he couldn’t make himself breathe right. Something was wrong. Ivan didn’t know what the hell it was, but something was definitely amiss.

Years ago, when he had been a much younger man, he would have crawled into bed with Volgin after having a nightmare. Now, however, he was all alone, and all he could do was crawl back into bed and sob quietly into his pillow until he managed to fall asleep.

So he did.

***

_Ivan’s fifteenth birthday was set to be a big event, to say the least. It had been Camille’s idea to have a debutante ball to introduce their youngest son into high society, and Ivan had willingly gone along with it. So, when the two parents had asked Ivan what he wanted for his birthday, his response shook them to their core._

_“I want Volgin to be there.”_

_***_

_On the night before the ball, Gustav drove his youngest son to the airport. He didn’t like this idea at all, but he and Camille had both agreed that it wouldn’t be good to deny Ivan his only birthday wish. They’d both given Volgin a fair warning that if anything was to happen, he would be promptly dealt with. When Gustav and Ivan got to the area where they had agreed to meet Volgin, Ivan seemed ecstatic. He was bouncing up and down, holding his father’s arm tightly._

_“Thank you so much, Papa! I can’t wait to see him!” The boy beamed, pulling a smile from his reluctant father. Suddenly, the boy gasped, and before Gustav could stop him, Ivan was bolting towards the familiar man he had spotted. Gustav sighed and watched Ivan launch himself into Volgin’s arms, and the scarred man beamed and spun the boy around lovingly._

_“Well, you’ve certainly grown, Ivan! Just look at you!”_

_“I missed you so much!” the boy cried, wrapping small arms around Volgin’s neck and sighing happily. “I’m so glad Mama and Papa let you come! We’re going to have so much fun at my ball! Oh, oh, you should see the suit I got! It’s really nice, and we’re gonna pin a white rose to the lapel. And we’re gonna have cake and punch and all kinds of things! I’m so excited!” The words burst forth from Ivan as if someone had set off a canon, but Volgin didn’t mind. He’d missed his sweet Vanya, and seeing him so happy and excited was the greatest way he could have imagined meeting him again._

_“Well, I’m happy for you, Vanya. I can’t believe it’s been almost two years since I’ve seen you!” Volgin mused, setting the boy down so he could stand up again. He didn’t notice Gustav until the man spoke._

_“Hello, Yevgeny.” He was curt, ever the military man Volgin had once been close been friends with._

_“Hello, Gustav. It’s good to be back in Belarus.” There was clearly tension between them, and Ivan desperately wanted to shoo it away._

_“Oh! By the way,” the young boy interrupted, hoping to avoid an altercation between the two men, “what was Moscow like?” Volgin turned to look at the boy who had once been his lover, and guilt overwhelmed him, yet he forced himself to smile._

_“It was beautiful, Ivan. I wish you could’ve seen it! There was a very nice view where I was staying. You would’ve loved it.” He replied, ruffling the boy’s white-blonde hair._

_“Well, that’s nice.” Gustav interrupted, “But we really should get you to your hotel. Come along, Ivan; the car’s waiting.” He clipped, nodding towards the parking lot. Volgin nodded, and followed the two Raikovs to the car._

_***_

_On the night of the ball, Ivan was happily running around the ballroom his parents had rented, flittering from person to person for hugs and pleasant conversation like a butterfly. Secretly, he was nervous that Volgin hadn’t arrived yet, but he knew the man wouldn’t leave him waiting on his birthday; especially when they hadn’t been able to see each other in two years._

_Suddenly, Ivan felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned around eagerly expecting Volgin, but was greeted with the face of his mother. He tried not to look disappointed._

_“Ivan, Papa just got a call from work. We have to go in and fill out some papers, but we’ll be right back.” Camille assured, smiling proudly at her boy. “Oh, and please brush your hair. It’s a rats nest already, and it’s only 10 PM!” She chuckled. Ivan smiled and stuck his tongue out playfully. Camille ruffled her youngest son’s hair and hugged him. “I can’t believe you’re already fifteen, Vanya! I’m so proud of you… You’re growing up…” Ivan blushed as his mother squeezed him tight._

_“I know, Mama… You can let go now…”_

_“Oh, Ivan,” she sighed, “You’re impossible.” The boy smiled in response and Camille returned his gesture. “I love you, sweetheart. Papa and I will be right back.”_

_“I love you too, Mama. See you soon!”_

_***_

_Time seemed to fly away as Ivan enjoyed the night. A few minutes after his parents had left, Volgin had arrived, and Ivan took the time he had unsupervised to linger around the man like a shadow._

_“Come with me! I want to show you something!” the boy chirped, pulling Volgin along down a hall and into a room that looked like a kitchen._

_“What’s in here, Vanya?” Volgin asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at the boy’s sly smile._

_“Me.” Ivan replied simply before hopping up on a counter to sit, crossing his legs like a diva._

_“Ivan, we can’t. I told you before; it’s not right. Your parents will kill me!” Volgin protested, fighting the urge to wipe that smirk right off Ivan’s face._

_“Psh. Papa’s work is a long drive away from here. They won’t be back for at least another hour. Besides, it’s my birthday! Please? I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again… I’ve missed you so much… Daddy.” Ivan punctuated his sentence with a pleading look into Volgin’s eyes, a look that he had been known not to be able to resist. Oh, damn that boy. Damn his seduction tactics. No fifteen year old should be that good. Volgin sighed, stepping forward and placing a hand on either side of the boy._

_“I can see you’re still a spoiled brat. I guess not much has changed after all.”_

_“And you still love it. So don’t go calling the kettle black, pot.” Ivan smirked, hair falling over his eyes. Volgin leaned forward for a moment and let their lips brush, teasing Ivan with the possibility of a kiss. The boy let out a quiet whine, and Volgin smirked, finally feeling like he was the one in control._

_“Tell me what you want, little one.”_

_“I want you… I want you t-to kiss me… Daddy… Please…” He whimpered, looking up with wide blue eyes full of feigned innocence. Volgin complied at last, and as his lips touched Ivan’s he realized that if he really was going to Hell for this, he’d definitely enjoy the ride there._

_***_

_It was 1 AM now, and they were supposed to go home an hour ago. Everyone had left by now, but Ivan, his brothers, and Volgin remained. There was no sign of Camille and Gustav, and they were all getting nervous. Ivan lay on the floor, not caring if his suit dirty. Camille would have scolded him if she had been there, and her absence was starkly noticeable. Alyosha and Stas had come from college to see their brother’s birthday, and even they were getting worried. Volgin sat in his chair, brow furrowed in thought and worry. He was sure Camille and Gustav were fine… They’d just run into bad traffic… They’d come bursting through the door any moment to tell Volgin it was time for him to go back to Moscow and never see their son again, he was sure of it._

_By 2 AM, things began to look bleak. Ivan was curled up snoozing, using one of his brother’s jackets as a pillow and the other as a blanket. Volgin sat between the two older Raikov children, who were now young men. It was strange to see them as adults, knowing he’d been there for their births so many years ago. He supposed it was stranger to Camille and Gustav, since they raised them._

_“Do you think they’re alright?” Stas asked, looking from his brother to Volgin._

_“I don’t know.” Alyosha replied, staring ahead at his younger brother, sleeping unrestfully. “I hope so, though. Ivan’s still got so much growing left to do. I want him to have Mama and Papa there for that. God knows we can’t be there. I’m getting married next year, and you’ve got classes to worry about.”_

_“I’m sure they’re fine.” Volgin insisted, not wanting to admit that if they were fine, they’d have already come to pick up their son. The two older Raikovs nodded solemnly, and there was a silent agreement between the three men that Camille and Gustav were most definitely not fine._

_***_

_Alyosha and Stas drove Ivan home around 2:30 AM, not wanting him to have to sleep on a ballroom floor any longer. Aly tucked his brother into bed and went downstairs to join his brother._

_“Should we call the police?” Stas asked, wringing his hands nervously._

_“Yeah, you go do that. I’m going to call Marina and tell her I won’t be home for awhile.” Alyosha replied. The two brothers nodded and went to their work._

_***_

_January 18 th, 1963. The date would live on in infamy in Ivan Raikov’s mind forever. No matter how much he forgot, that date would always be burned into his memory. His parents had been missing since February of last year, and Ivan was still holding out some small sliver of hope that they might be found… until they were._

_The call came early in the morning, and Ivan stumbled downstairs sleepily to answer the phone. Alyosha had been looking after him for close to a year now, and they’d fallen into a quiet routine. Ivan answered the phone._

_“Hello?”_

_“Hello, is this the Raikov residence?”_

_“Yes, it is.”_

_“Who is this?”_

_“Ivan Raikov, youngest of three. My brother Alyosha is asleep, and Stas is away at college. Who is this?”_

_“Could you go get your brother please? This in urgent.”_

_“Okay. Hold on.” Ivan yawned, setting the phone down and running upstairs to wake his brother. Aly came downstairs and answered the phone while Ivan sat on the couch and turned on the television._

_“Hello? Yes, this is Alyosha Raikov. Yes, yes; son of Gustav and Camille. Have you found them?” Aly asked, eyes wide. There was a pause, and Ivan looked up from the TV. He watched Alyosha’s face fall, and his heart sank into his stomach. “Y-yes. I understand. Yes, I’ll be right there… Th-thank you…” Aly hung up, and turned to Ivan with his face pale._

_“What is it?” Ivan asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer he would receive, “Did they find Mama and Papa?”_

_“Get in the car, Ivan.” Alyosha said grimly, “Wait for me. I need to call Stas.” Ivan nodded and did as he was told._

_***_

_Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room as his brothers identified the bodies of their parents was something Ivan never thought he would do. Alyosha had called Stas, who had driven down as fast as possible, and the three Raikov brothers had all shared a long hug when he got to the hospital. Now, Ivan was sitting alone, eyeing the phone booth outside on the curb. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some change. It looked like it could be enough to place a call to Moscow._

_The phone booth was small, but so was Ivan. There was just enough room for him to lean comfortably against the side as he dialed the number he knew by heart (he and Volgin had been keeping in touch since the latter had to return to Moscow after Ivan’s birthday)._

_“Hello?” A familiar voice answered._

_“Zhenya?” Ivan asked shyly, voice beginning to waver with emotion._

_“Vanya? Is that you?”_

_“Y-yes… You need to come to Belarus as soon as you can. They found Mama and Papa, but…” Ivan let out a choked sob before continuing, “th-they’re dead…”_

_***_

_Three months later, the funerals were finished, the papers had been signed, and Ivan was packing his bags. Volgin had been appointed Ivan’s official legal guardian, and Aly and Stas had gone back to college. Ivan sat next to Volgin in first class of the plane to Moscow, and there was a bittersweet feeling in his heart. He had wanted for so long to be with him, but not like this… Never like this… Volgin felt much the same, and refrained from holding Ivan’s hand the entire flight. He was worried for the boy, but didn’t want to seem overbearing. Ivan leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, a sad look on his face. Volgin could only hope that this deep sadness would pass. He had always hated seeing Ivan sad, and knew firsthand how bad it hurt to lose a parent. His own mother had died when he was much younger than Ivan, and of course there was the matter of Nadine and Gala… Volgin looked at Ivan. He was so young, still had so much life ahead of him. All he wanted was for Ivan to be happy._

_The plane took off, and Ivan was already asleep. Volgin was not a religious man, but he prayed silently to whatever god there might have been that Ivan had pleasant dreams. God only knew he needed them after all the hell he’d been through._


	10. Chapter 10

**May 2 nd, 1984, 12:00 PM**

**Reunion**

Ivan had heard tell that there was a new girl on the base. He wouldn’t usually give a damn about someone new, but people had been making quite a fuss over her. He’d heard some rumors that she was working for Cipher, and others said she was always naked. Ivan loved gossip; he always had, but this was getting ridiculous. He’d decided to go and see this woman for himself.

Ivan made his way down to the medical platform where she was being held, and found Ocelot there.

“Hello, Adamska.” He said neutrally, stepping up next to the other man.

“Ivan. What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to see the new girl. I hear she’s very popular.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that. Ivan, meet Quiet.” Ocelot gestured to the empty cell, and suddenly a girl materialized. She was tall, scantily clad, and had brown hair and green eyes. Ivan studied her face, and-

Oh no.

Oh FUCK no.

There was no way… It couldn’t be…

Ivan stared into the face of Katya Alessandra Bisognin, and felt his blood begin to boil. How? How was she here? And why was Ocelot calling her “Quiet”? Had she come to kill him, too? To finish the job? Ivan took a few steps back and slammed against the wall, hand on his rapidly beating heart.

“You…” He whispered, fear and rage seizing him, “Why the hell are you here?! You filthy traitor whore! I’ll kill you!” He shouted, running forward and pulling at the door. Ocelot held him back, attempting to calm the enraged man.

“Calm down! What the hell are you talking about, Ivan? Do you know her?”

“She killed him, Ocelot! She killed Volgin! I can’t let her get away with that!” He cried, attempting to free himself from Ocelot’s arms.

“Okay, okay! Just calm down! Quiet, do you know him?” Ocelot asked, searching the girl’s dazed face. She shook her head rapidly, taking a few steps back.

“LIAR!” Ivan accused. Ocelot had never seen him this angry.

“Look, just go before you do anything you’ll regret! You can’t kill her. We need her.” He said, releasing Ivan at last.

“She’s lying to you! Her name isn’t Quiet! It’s Katya! She killed my Zhenya, Ocelot! You have to believe me! She can’t be trusted! She sold me out to the Commander! She’s the reason I have this!” Ivan shouted, pulling down the collar of his shirt to reveal the branding scars there that spelled out “WHORE”. Ocelot looked from Ivan to Quiet, concern on his face. Quiet looked horrified by the display, and was pressed up against the bars of her cell, shaking like a leaf.

“Look, just leave. We’ll figure this out later, I promise. She can’t talk, so you won’t hear it from her. Now go!” Ocelot said, pointing at the steps that led back upstairs and out of the medical bay. Ivan shot both of them a final glare and stomped up the steps, retreating to his room to process what he had just seen.

***

Quiet sat on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, thinking. Who was that man? Why was he so angry with her? She tried to remember something, anything before she was Quiet; she knew she must have been someone before. When she looked at him, he had looked somewhat familiar, kind of like someone she’d seen in a dream or something. She frowned, walking over and turning on her shower so she could sit and water herself while she thought. The hot water rained down on her as she thought, and Quiet wondered who this “Katya” was that the man seemed to this she was, and what she had done to evoke his rage. He’d said she killed someone, but… Quiet traced through a puddle of water with her finger. Would she have done that? What if she was who the man thought she was? She sure as hell didn’t know, so it could be possible. Quiet heard footsteps coming, and looked up to see whom it was.

 _‘Oh, just Ocelot.’_ She realized upon seeing him, and went back to her thoughts. Out of all the people on this base, Ocelot was the only one who had been nice to her so far. The man they called Snake treated her civilly enough, but she was still determining whether or not she wanted to kill him. He’d beaten her in battle, which meant he was definitely skilled, and she supposed that if they wanted her dead they’d have killed her already. She didn’t mind the cell very much. It had everything she needed, and was a good place to sun herself. Sometimes Ocelot would come in and try to talk to her, but she never replied. Not out loud, anyway. She always imagined what she would say to him if she could respond, though.

“Hello again, Miss Quiet.” He said, sitting down in a folding chair across from her cell and smiling patiently.

 _‘Speak of the devil._ ’ Quiet mentally retorted, looking up from her musings and turning off the shower. She walked over to her cot and lay down, unclasping her top to get more sun on her back.

“Still not feeling very talkative?” Ocelot asked. Quiet shook her head. “That’s a shame,” he sighed, “I’d like to hear what you have to say. You seem very intelligent.”

‘ _Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere._ ’ She thought, rolling her eyes and smiling against her better judgment. Suddenly, Ocelot handed her a pad of paper and a pencil through the bars. Quiet sat up, clasping her top once again, and looked at him in confusion.

“Can you write?” he asked, leaning forward and resting a chin on his hand. Quiet looked down at the supplies, and put pencil to paper. This was where it got tricky. She had no idea if the parasites could be transmitted via written word, but she decided not to risk it. Instead, she made a crude drawing of Miller, and handed it back to Ocelot.

“Is this Miller?” Ocelot asked, chuckling. Quiet nodded in response. “Is he hitting people on the head with his crutch?” Ocelot laughed. Quiet nodded again, smiling. It was childish, she knew, but that guy really got on her nerves. She and Ocelot sat together for a moment, both snickering.

 _‘At least someone here has a sense of humor._ ’ She mused.

“Do you mind if I show this to him? I’ll tell you how he reacts.” Ocelot asked, wiping a tear from laughing so hard out of the corner of his eye. Quiet shook her head, and Ocelot thanked her. “Thank you. So, anything else of urgency you need to express? Or are you alright?” He inquired. Quiet shook her head. “Okay. Well, I’ll be going then. You can keep those, by the way.” He said, giving her a friendly wave and walking upstairs with the drawing tucked into his pocket. Quiet lay back down on her bed and sighed happily, closing her eyes.

‘ _Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all…_ ’

***

Ivan kicked open Snake’s office door and huffed angrily.

“Why is she here?!?” He growled, crossing his arms. Snake looked up tiredly and sighed.

“Who? Quiet?”

“Yes! Do you even know who she is? What she’s done to me?!?”

“Wait, you know her?” Snake said, taken aback by Ivan’s anger.

“Yes! She’s the one who killed my darling Volgin!” He cried, tears welling up in his eyes, “She betrayed me. She betrayed us. She doesn’t deserve to live! She’s the reason I have the scar on my chest!” He shouted, clenching his fists at his sides. Snake leaned back in his chair and observed the younger man, searching his face.

“Alright. Look, I’ll make you a deal. Lots of people, Miller included, don’t want her here, but it was clear to me that she’s very skilled. I’m not going to kill her just like that. She saved my life coming back to the base; I at least owe her that much. If she steps too out of line at any point or escapes, I know what I’ll have to do. For now, though, just try your best to ignore her. Got it?” He asked, rubbing his forehead right under the shrapnel stuck into his skull. Ivan nodded, but glared nonetheless. As he turned and marched out the door, he slammed it behind him. Well, whether Katya liked it or not, she couldn’t stay Quiet forever. Ivan knew that much.

Sooner or later, she’d have to talk, and when she did, he would have his answers.

And maybe even his revenge.

***

_So this was it._

_Ivan looked up at the imposing figure of the house, tall and more of a large cabin that a “house” per se. He hefted his biggest suitcase out of the trunk of Volgin’s car and sighed as he followed the man to the door. Volgin took a key out of his pocket and fitted it into the lock, turning it until Ivan heard a click. The tall man glanced back at the teenager, giving him an apologetic look. Ivan looked down at his shoes, covered by mud and being spattered by the rain falling down from above._

_“Just open it. I don’t want to stand in the rain anymore.” He muttered, dragging the tip of his shoe through the mud. Volgin nodded and opened the door, and Ivan walked in. The house was warm, and smelled somewhat like ozone. Ivan wiped his boots on the doormat and took off the hood of his jacket as he took in his surroundings.  
In the living room sat two chairs facing each other in front of a massive fireplace. A bearskin rug lay in the center of the sprawling room, and Ivan could envision himself curling up on it in the near future. Without the fireplace lit, the room was freezing; Ivan could practically see his breath in the air.        _

_"I forgot how big this place is." Ivan said softly._

_"Hm?" Volgin was closing the door and locking it behind them._

_"Nothing. Not important."_

_"Alright…w-well, uh." Volgin cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your room is upstairs. I'll show you."_

_Ivan nodded and swallowed thickly, suddenly missing his old bedroom intensely. He followed Volgin up the rather steep wooden staircase, dragging his suitcase behind him. The rest of his things would be brought over by the end of the week, but for now, he only had his one bag. In it were his brush, a few pairs of pajamas, a few changes of clothes, and his toothbrush and toothpaste. And one black and white photograph of him with his brothers and his parents, all of them smiling warmly (minus his father, of course). He'd barely let go of that photo since he'd heard the news, and it was honestly a miracle that he'd been able to part with it long enough to put it in the bag for safe-keeping._

_Volgin led him to a rather large room at the end of the hall. In the center of the room was a huge bed with a princess-style canopy over it. Next to the bed was a bookcase full of books. They looked like they'd been dusted recently._

_"Well. Make yourself comfortable, Vanya."  
Ivan nodded wordlessly and sat at the edge of the bed tentatively and set his bag down next to him. Volgin avoided looking him in the eye.          _

_"So, y-you'll be fine in here?"_

_"Of course. This is a nice room." Ivan responded, not in the mood to say anything witty. Volgin nodded, shot Ivan a pitying look, then left without saying anything else. Ivan looked around the room again, breathing shallowly, before flopping down completely onto the bed, letting the unbelievably soft covers engulf him. Then he began to cry harder than he ever had in his life._


	11. Chapter 11

**May 7 th, 1984, 10:00 AM**

**Trust**

Quiet’s eyes stayed closed, and she snoozed even as she heard someone’s footsteps coming down the stairs and into her cell. She figured it must be another guard coming to ask questions that she wouldn’t answer. She heard a gentle metal clang on the bars of her cell in front of her and opened her eyes. Venom Snake looked at her and smiled patiently.

“Morning! How’re you feeling?” He asked. Quiet quirked an eyebrow and gave him a sarcastic look. “Right, I guess it’s kind of hard to feel so great in a cage, huh?” He asked apologetically. She nodded in response and closed her eyes again. Oh well, at least he wasn’t being mean.

“Trust me, I’d let you out of here and let you walk around if I could, but Miller would have a fit.” He added. Quiet sighed and sat up, figuring that he probably wasn’t going to just let her nap. She looked at him expectantly, brushing a loose lock of hair off her cheek.

 _Why are you here?_ Her eyes seemed to say. Snake cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Well, I was about to take a walk around the base, and I was wondering if you’d join me.” He asked. Quiet thought for a moment before nodding and standing up. Snake smiled and unlocked her cell door, opening it for her. Quiet eyed him suspiciously as she walked out, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. He didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives, which was good. By all accounts he seemed pretty nice. Certainly much better than Miller, but Quiet wasn’t going to let her guard down so easily. She followed close behind Snake as he walked out and up the stairs, leading her through the medical platform. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but she didn’t mind. It was nice to get out and have unobstructed sunlight on her skin. Every so often Snake would look back at her to make sure she was still following him, and she did so without trouble. He led her up a few flights of stairs, up and up and up they went until he stopped at a door. The light indicating whether it was locked turned from red to green, and it opened. Snake stepped through, motioning for Quiet to follow him once again. Quiet raised an eyebrow and stepped through the doorway. She knew he knew better than to try anything funny, but if he did, she would have no qualms about speaking and ruining this place in an instant. She was still looking for something to help her make up her mind, anyway, and if that was it, so be it.

The two walked down the hall for a few more steps before Snake stopped at another door. A red button was next to this one, and he seemed to brace himself before pushing it. Once he did, the door slid open, and he led Quiet inside. She dug her fingernails into her palms, on edge, itching for some indication of what he had in mind. The only thing in the room was a bed. Quiet shot Snake a look, but he wasn’t even looking her way. Instead, his gaze was focused intensely on a few Polaroid photographs tacked onto the wall. Quiet relaxed and walked over to look at them next to Snake. All right, so he wasn’t trying to get into her pants. That was enough for her. She eyed the photographs, scanning over faces she had never seen, and a couple she had. Gingerly, she picked up a photo of a girl with frizzy blonde hair crouching next to a little black kitten drinking milk from a dish. She studied it, thinking it out of place on a military base like this. Who was this girl? Quiet had never seen her around before. She was smiling as she watched the kitten enjoy its milk. Quiet turned the photograph over and found “Nuke” written on the back. Underneath that, “1974”. So, this photo had been taken ten years before, at-

“You know about where I was before this, don’t you?” Snake asked, jolting Quiet back into reality. He was so still and silent; she’d forgotten he was there for a moment. She looked at him and nodded. Snake took a deep breath before going on. “That girl there, her name was Paz. She… We thought she was working with us, but she was a spy for Cipher. She… She was just a kid. Not 16 like she pretended, but still young. She died nine years ago when our old base was destroyed. Her and…” He picked up a photo, this one of a young boy and a woman around Quiet’s age. Both had brown hair and determined eyes. Snake took another breath, and it sounded almost shaky. Quiet had the urge to comfort him, but she didn’t know if that would be okay. “This boy,” Snake continued, handing Quiet the picture, “his name was Chico. That’s his sister Amanda next to him. He went after Paz when she was kidnapped. Had horrible things done to him. When I brought them out of Camp Omega and back to the base… Everything was on fire. There was an explosion. Paz and Chico didn’t make it, but Kaz and I did.” Snake was silent again for a moment, and Quiet let the weight of his words sink down on her. “I guess maybe I’ve got a little bit of survivor’s guilt. They didn’t deserve to die like that. They were both good kids.” Snake turned to her suddenly, a serious look in his eye. “You’re a good kid too, Quiet. You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this, right?”

Quiet nodded. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath until she let it out then. Snake swallowed before he spoke again. “I want you to know what Cipher is capable of. I know you know, but you don’t know what it’s like to have to tell a little boy’s big sister that he died like that. Look, you’re a valuable asset, Quiet. You’re one of the most skilled snipers I’ve ever seen, and I really would like to take you on missions so your talents aren’t being wasted. I don’t want you to be a caged animal. Maybe Kaz doesn’t trust you, maybe nobody else does, but I see something in you, Quiet. You’d be a damn good Diamond Dog. So I need to know, right now, can I trust you?” Silence seemed to fill the room. Time felt like it had stopped. Quiet focused on his lone blue eye for a moment, and saw all the pain and intensity in his words focused there. She swallowed, and made her decision.

Quiet nodded.  
***

Ivan rolled over in bed and wished he could get out of working. Sadly, he knew there was no chance of that. If he tried, Ocelot or Miller would come in with an air horn to wake him up. He sat up wearily and padded to the shower. As he stood in the spray of hot water, he let his eyes drift closed for a moment. He tried to remember what it felt like to matter, to be loved so fully by someone as he had been before. Even almost twenty years later, he could still remember their last kiss. Hell, he could remember _every_ kiss. All the way from 1 to whatever number had been their last. Ivan rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and turned off the shower. He got out and toweled off, his hair still damp and stringy as he got dressed.

His job was somewhat of an enigma. He was mostly an errand boy, but he sometimes worked in the kitchen. Ivan still remembered some of the recipes his mama had taught him. He still knew the recipe for French macaroons by heart. Of course, good food was somewhat of a rarity on a base like this. Most of it consisted of fish, since they were on the ocean, but Miller tried his best to keep things varied. Ivan knocked on Miller’s office door.

“Come in.” Miller said. Ivan opened the door, closing it behind him.

“Morning,” he said, walking over to Miller’s desk and picking up several empty coffee mugs, “it’s a mess in here.” He remarked. Miller shrugged and continued to fill out paperwork. Ivan huffed and continued to stack the mugs on top of each other. Miller sure drank a lot of coffee. Ivan stepped on something and looked down to see a condom wrapper on the floor. “Oh, real nice.” He muttered, “I’m not picking that up.” Miller ignored Ivan’s remark and waved him away. Ivan rolled his eyes and left, making his way to the kitchen to drop off the mugs.

At this point, he was more of a housekeeper than anything else. Shame he didn’t have a maid outfit, though. He thought he would look cute in one. After dropping off Miller’s mugs in the kitchen, he walked past the shooting range, where Ocelot was instructing some new recruits. Ivan kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at the man. As soon as he was past then, Ivan ducked into a hallway and lit a cigarette. Smoking was just about the only form of release he got these days; Snake didn’t like his men drinking much and it wasn’t like any man was jumping at the opportunity to fuck someone with the word “WHORE” burned into their chest. Besides, Ivan wasn’t into women anyway. He never had been, and didn’t see it being in his future. Hell, he didn’t even really see a future for himself. Ivan closed his eyes and let out a cloud of grey smoke that curled like the tail of a dragon. He tapped the ashes onto the ground, and wondered absently if his brothers still thought of him. He thought of them, of course. It was hard to forget an encounter like their last one. Screaming into a phone that you’re gay was certainly one way to leave an impression on your older brother. Ivan dropped the butt of his cigarette and smashed it with the heel of his boot. Maybe he should visit Aly and Stas. He still hadn’t met their wives. Hell, they probably had kids by now too. Ivan began to wonder how he would find time to get a vacation. It wasn’t exactly like he would be missed. The worst that might happen would be Miller’s coffee cups piling up. Ivan nodded to himself and set off for Snake’s office.

While he walked, Ivan studied the people he passed. How many of them had families? How many of them had kids? How many were broken like him? As he looked around, he heard a tiny giggle. He turned his head towards the noise to see a small, feminine boy being pressed up against a wall by an older, more rugged man. The kid was maybe 18, give or take, but the man was maybe a bit younger than Ivan, perhaps 30 or so. The boy smiled and blushed as the man pressed kisses against his neck. Ivan looked away and continued to walk, fighting the urge to tell them that these things were doomed to fail in the end. He wanted to tell that boy he was once like him. He wanted to say a lot of things, but instead he said nothing.

He always said nothing these days.  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for brief, one-sidessibling incest and homophobic slurs towards the end of this one.

**May 16 th, 1984, 12:00 PM**

**Family**

Ivan stared at the ornate wooden door. It was an image of his past, so deeply ingrained in his memory that he couldn’t forget it if he tried. As he worked up the courage knock on the door, he looked just under the knocker and saw three names carved into the wood by a pocketknife.

“Алёша, Стас, и Иван.”

Alyosha, Stas, and Ivan. The man who had once watched his brother carve those names into their parents’ door so many years ago now smiled at them with a nostalgic fondness. Seeing those names filled Ivan with courage, and he raised his hand and knocked the knocker. After a minute or so, the door was opened, and a familiar face greeted Ivan.

“Ivan! You’re here! It’s been years!” Alyosha beamed and threw his arms around his baby brother, hugging him tightly against his chest. Ivan’s breath caught in his throat, and he buried his face in his brother’s chest. It had been so long since he’d seen any of his family members… He hadn’t seen them since he was 15. Ivan smiled and pulled back from his older brother. “Stas is inside too. Come in, come in!” Aly said, still smiling and leading Ivan into the house. As soon as the door was closed behind him, a woman taking his coat and hanging it up ambushed Ivan.

“Oh! Thank you, Miss-?”

“Mrs. Raikov,” the woman chuckled, holding her hand out for Ivan to shake, “I’m Alyosha’s wife. My name is Klara. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She smiled. Ivan shook her hand and realized how cold his were compared to hers.

“I’m Ivan. You ah… You probably knew that…”

“Ivan!” another familiar voice called, and Ivan found himself suddenly being hugged tightly by someone else he knew.

“Stas!”

“I’m so glad you could make it, _младший брат_!” Stas cried, finally letting Ivan go. The youngest Raikov smiled, blushing at all the attention.

“So this is Ivan?” a soft female voice said. Ivan looked up and saw a woman with fair skin and long, honey-blonde hair walking towards him. She was a stark contrast to Klara, who had darker skin and brown hair cut into a bob. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Darya.” She said, shaking his hand as well. Ivan looked down at their hands and then realized that she was clearly pregnant. He smiled warmly and gestured to her tummy when she let go of his hand.

“How far along are you?”

“Oh, four months next Wednesday!” she beamed. Stas put an arm around his wife, looking proud.

“This’ll be our third,” the middle Raikov said, “Aly and Klara have twins.”

“Twins?” Ivan repeated, looking at Aly in awe. Alyosha smiled and nodded in confirmation.

“In fact, they should be down any second begging to be fed. I’m surprised they’re not already down here. They were ecstatic to meet their Uncle Ivan!” He said, patting Ivan on the back. Ivan took a breath as the weight of his brother’s words hit him. Uncle Ivan… He was an uncle now… Damn… Here his brothers were with wives and starting families, and he was still all alone in the world.

“So,” Darya spoke up quietly, “do you have anyone special in your life, Ivan?”

There it was, the million-dollar question Ivan had been hoping to avoid. Silence filled the room. Aly and Stas had obviously discussed Ivan’s confession before, but they weren’t about to tell their wives that their brother was…

“Ah, n-no. I suppose I’m the bachelor of the family. Oh! I made macaroons!” He blurted, changing the subject.

“Mama’s recipe?” Aly asked, just as eager to get off the topic as Ivan.

“Of course!” Ivan smiled, walking over to his bag and pulling out a box. As he did so, he heard several pairs of footsteps trampling down the stairs.

“Food?” a tiny voice piped up from the bottom of the stairs. Ivan looked up, still holding the box. Four children of varying ages stood on the precipice of the living room. Three girls and a boy. The first of the girls, who stood at the front, seemed about 8, and her brother seemed the same. One of the other girls looked maybe 6 or so, and the last was a toddler, maybe 3 at most.

“Elvira,” Alyosha scolded the girl, “be polite! Come say hello to your Uncle Ivan!”

“Sorry,” the little girl muttered, clearly only saying it to appease her father. She led the other children over and curtsied in front of Ivan.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Ivan dismissed, “I was the same way at her age.” He crouched down to be eye level with the girl, and smiled gently. “Have you ever had real French macaroons, made from scratch?” he asked.

“No…” The girl said, wrinkling her nose in confusion. Like her parents, her hair was dark and her skin was slightly tanned as well. Her eyes were the same shade of green as Aly’s. “What’s a macaroon?”

“It’s a kind of cookie.” Ivan explained, opening the box and handing one to the girl, “They’re chocolate flavored! Your grandmother taught me how to make them.” He said, remembering his mama beating egg whites into foam to make her famous macaroons. He watched as the little girl split the macaroon into fourths and gave one piece to each of her companions. The toddler was the first to shove hers into her mouth, eyes lighting up as she did so.

“Nummy!” she declared, spurring her friends to begin munching on theirs. She had curly blonde hair, and blue eyes. Her sister’s hair was already very long, and was a mixture of brown and blonde. The boy, Elvira’s twin, it seemed, had dark brown hair and green eyes just like his sister. The only difference was that he had freckles as well. The children seemed to enjoy their macaroons, and Ivan smiled triumphantly standing up.

“So,” he said, turning to his brothers, “mind introducing me to everyone?”

“Not at all!” Aly said, and gestured to the twins, “Those two are mine and Klara’s. Elvira and Pavel.”

“The one with long hair is Sofia, and the little one is Olga!” Stas chimed in. “We don’t know the baby’s gender yet, so we don’t have a name picked out.” He said. Ivan nodded, and looked at the children, mentally matching names to faces. All right, the kids seemed sweet enough. Perhaps being an uncle wouldn’t be so bad after all! Ivan felt a tug on his pants and looked down to see little Olga pulling on them. When she had his attention, she reached up. Ivan picked up the toddler and smiled.

“Hello, little one! It’s nice to meet you! I’m your Uncle Ivan!”

“Cookie!” she said, promptly tugging on his long hair.

“Olga!” Darya said, chuckling quietly and taking her baby from Ivan, “That’s not very nice!” she turned to Ivan apologetically, “I’m sorry, she’s a hair puller.” As if to prove her point, Olga grabbed a fistful of her mother’s long blonde locks and pulled hard.

It was times like these Ivan was glad he was alone.

***

Ivan wished he could stay in this house. It was full of so many happy memories, and now it was home to Aly and his family. Truthfully, Ivan had missed his brothers most of all during all his years of absence. It was strange to see them as adults; close to the age their father had been when he died. Aly was nearly the spitting image of their father, and it was so odd to see him being a parent now. He was the last Raikov brother, and the only one who had no wife or children to speak of. He had nobody.

Ivan hated stepping back and looking at his feelings for his older brother. They were a complicated mess of tangles and knots and memories. Ever since he was a child, he had known that his brother was handsome; that went without saying. Everyone always told Gustav and Camille that their sons were good-looking, and Alyosha had never had problems keeping busy on Saturday nights. Ivan, on the other hand, had always been the black sheep. Despite all his parents’ nagging, he had never once gotten a girlfriend. Women had just never interested Ivan. But men on the other hand… Ivan had always been attracted to men, and he had always known that deep down.

It had begun manifesting itself from an early age. Ivan had always enjoyed being around his older brother, but as they grew older, and Aly began to show interest in women, jealousy began to brew within Ivan. He would act out, like the brat he’d always been, and his family had written it off as the usual temper tantrums that came with being the youngest sibling. But now, years later, seeing him with a wife and children while Ivan’s own chance at happiness had been so violently robbed from him…

Anger seemed to boil his blood; various other emotions being tossed in along with it like ingredients into a pot of soup. Ivan hated himself for being jealous of his brother’s happiness. And he so, so wished that it was Aly he was jealous of. That was the way it was supposed to go, right? If he was jealous, he should be jealous of Aly for having the lovely Klara as his wife. But the longer he dwelled on it, he sometimes found himself jealous of the wrong half of the pair. Some part of him wished…

Some part of him wished he was in Klara’s place.

That thought in itself was as disgraceful and disgusting as Ivan’s attraction to Volgin had seemed. He pushed it far away from his thoughts, ignoring it. Falling for someone old enough to be your father, though unrelated was one sick thing in itself, but falling for your own older brother…

Ivan didn’t want to think about it. He had to suppress it. He had to make it go away, make it leave. Now was the time for healing and repairing, not making wounds deeper with incest. He loved his brother, but… Even he knew it was revolting to love him in any way other than platonic.

He needed to go home as soon as possible.

***

Ivan rolled over in the guest bed, his thick blonde hair falling in his eyes. He sat up and yawned, eyeing the clock by his bed. It was nearly noon, and he didn’t have to get to the airport until four, which meant he had time to kill. He got out of bed to go shower, and when he got out and got dressed, he headed downstairs.

“Good morning, Aly. Where is everyone?” He asked, buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt.

“Ah, good morning, Ivan. They all took the kids to the playground. I’m not feeling too well, so Klara figured it would be best if I stayed home and rested.” The older Raikov replied. Ivan nodded and sat down next to his brother on the couch. Suddenly, something dawned on him:

This might be the last time he saw any of his family.

If things continued as they were… Hell, Ivan was pretty sure he’d be dead in five years, and not from someone else’s hand if he was being honest with himself. He wondered fleetingly if he should tell Aly…

He looked up at his brother, dark hair pushed back, eyes the same forest green as their papa’s… Maybe… Maybe Aly would understand… Aly turned to meet Ivan’s gaze, making the younger man jump.

“Something on your mind, little brother?” He asked, mouth quirked up in a half smile. Ivan’s heart pounded. He didn’t know, did he? No, no, there was no way… Ivan swallowed. Hell, he was leaving soon anyway. He was leaving soon to go be alone again. All alone. God, he was so tired of being alone. _Why was he always alone—_

It was now or never.

Time seemed to stop. Ivan hadn’t even realized that he was kissing Aly until he was being shoved away.

“Ivan, what the hell?!?” Aly cried, standing up, looking at him incredulously. Ivan felt the tears well, and his breath quicken. What had he expected? He had been so stupid! Stupid! Stupid Ivan! Why would you ever think he could-?

“I… I… I always…” Ivan trailed off, stomach threatening to bring his dinner back up.

“Get out.” Aly said, eyes closed, “I knew, I knew from the moment you walked in… You were always a fag, weren’t you?” He said in a voice Ivan didn’t even recognize as his brother’s.

“Aly, I… I’m sorry! I wish I could change, I do, I just-!”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE, IVAN! I DON’T WANT YOU INFLUENCING MY CHILDREN!” Alyosha shouted, finally looking at Ivan with murder in his eyes. Moments ago, there had been love and brotherhood there, but now… Now all Ivan could see in his eyes was hate. He nodded, and his legs carried him up to his room. He threw all his things in his bag hastily, his entire body shaking. So that was it then. He had blown it. He officially had no family. No ties, nobody left who gave a damn whether he lived or died.

Perhaps that was a good thing.

Ivan hastily pulled his bag to the door. Aly was still in the living room, staring into the fireplace in deep thought. Ivan opened the door, and was just about to leave. Alyosha wasn’t going to say goodbye, obviously, but he couldn’t just leave like this. When he did die, he didn’t want to have the last memory his brother had of him to be a shaking, scared little boy.

“Aly, even though you hate me… You’re still my brother, and I love you. I love all of you. And I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be. I’m sorry I can’t be who Mama and Papa would have wanted me to be. I love you. I love you all. I’ll never forget you, and even if you hate me… I want you to know that I could never hate any of you. You’re my family. I hope your children turn out better than me. Goodbye.” He muttered, and stepped out the door. As Ivan closed the door behind him, he felt something ending. He vaguely wondered what Aly would tell the others when they returned from the park. Ah, well, it wasn’t really his problem anymore, was it? Memories flashed through his mind, sunny summer days spent rolling down hills and eating sticky, syrupy popsicles, winter evenings spent telling stories in front of the fire, colorful fall afternoons spent jumping into piles of leaves… Ivan felt the tears well in his eyes, and he began to walk. So this was it. The end of an era. The death of him in the eyes of the only family he had left.

Ivan slung his bag over his back, and looked out at the horizon. He began to run. He had a plane to catch.

He had a new home waiting for him.


	13. Chapter 13

**June 1 st, 1984, 3:02 PM**

**Homecoming**

           

Ivan stepped off the helicopter, and onto the base. As he began the trek to his room, he heard Pequod fly away behind him. The sun shone brightly, and it was clearly the dawn of a new day. As Ivan put his things away, he wondered what the large machine he had seen while flying down to the base had been. It was impossibly gargantuan, and seemed to stand on two legs. Ivan supposed it was R&D’s problem, not his, but he was a bit curious. Once all his things were back in their proper places, he decided to go have a walk around the medical platform.

As he walked, sun on his back, Ivan felt increasingly optimistic. Perhaps his family would come to their senses and forgive him! Or perhaps he was delirious. Oh well, it was one of the two. He didn’t really care. In the distance, he saw who looked like Ocelot and Snake, and jogged up to them, smiling and waving. He stopped a few feet away when he saw they were looking at something in a cage. He continued to walk, but slower now. He saw the outline of something in the cage, as well as the troubled looks on the two men’s faces. As he got closer, an uneasy feeling grew in his stomach. Maybe this was something he wasn’t supposed to see… He had a bad feeling about it… Still, he pressed on, and Ocelot saw him before Snake did.

“I-Ivan!” He cried, running over to the younger man and trying to block his view of the cage, “You’re back early! Ah, here, you REALLY don’t want to see this. It’s not pretty.”

“I want to see it, Adamska. Move.” He shoved Ocelot out of the way and when he was a few feet from the cage…

No… No, no, no, no, no. No way. There was no possible way. It had to be a mirage, a hallucination. Ivan walked closer, heart in his throat. It was impossible. It couldn’t be…

His stomach seemed to reject the very idea his brain was processing, and his heart was slamming hard. He felt like a truck had hit him as he took that final shaky step. There was… No denying it… He raised a quivering hand to his mouth, eyes like saucers. Ivan looked upon the face he had etched into his memory so many years ago, and it seemed to slam into him full force that that face no longer existed. In its place was what Ivan could only describe as a shadow of the man he had loved. His face, his entire body… They were charred, unrecognizable, riddled with half-melted bullets and shrapnel. It was a horrifying image, like something out of a nightmare. He didn’t even have a mouth, but… The scars were still there. Like engravings set in stone. Ivan’s legs collapsed underneath him, and he sat, staring at… Him.

The tears wouldn’t come. Not even as Ocelot knelt next to him, resting a reassuring hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles.

“Listen, I know this is hard, but…”

“Don’t… Don’t tell me you know. You don’t know a damn THING about us! Don’t you EVER say something like that to me again! I will rip your goddamn throat out!” He whimpered, voice breaking. Ocelot nodded, standing up and looking to Snake.

“He just… Needs some time.” The silver-haired man declared, as if he were a doctor. Snake nodded, looking down at the miserable boy before him. Suddenly, Ivan turned to look at him, hauntingly blue eyes piercing him. Suddenly, his fingers curled around the barrel of Snake’s gun, pointing it at himself and pressing his forehead against it.

“Kill me.” Ivan muttered, not blinking, “Just do it. I’m done here. I don’t… I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to live in a world where someone turned the man I love into… this. Just pull the trigger.”

“…Look, I’m not going to-!”

“JUST DO IT! YOU FUCKING COWARD! JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY! KILL ME LIKE YOU KILLED HIM! I WANT TO GO BACK TO HIM! I WANT TO GO HOME! P-please… Please, I want to go home… I want to be with him again… I’m so tired… Please, just… Let me rest… I’m no good anymore… Just kill me…” He sobbed, tears finally falling hot and fast down his cheeks. He wanted to say more, wanted to keep hurling insults until Snake knew what it was like to be dead like him. Until Snake finally got tired of it and killed him. Suddenly, he felt a strong, supportive arm around his shoulders, and Ivan looked up into Ocelot’s face. The man looked at him sympathetically, and Ivan stood up slowly. The hysteria began to drain out of him at Ocelot’s comforting but firm hold on him, and it left nothing but an icy tiredness throughout his whole body.

Maybe Ocelot was right. Maybe he did need some time.

“Listen, kid, all Snake did was knock him into a coma. I have no idea who killed him. If you do… Look, revenge is a hollow goal. Don’t try to kill who killed him. Just…” Ocelot trailed off, and Ivan clicked his tongue.

“I’ll do whatever I want.”

Revenge, huh? Well, Ivan certainly knew who was to blame then. What a pity she just happened to be so buddy-buddy with the boss…


	14. Chapter 14

**July 8 th, 1984, 7:25 PM  
Finality**

Nobody saw Ivan outside of that cage anymore. He always looked clean enough, so they assumed he took showers and things of that nature, but as far as they all knew, he slept curled up next to the corpse of the Man on Fire. They weren’t sure WHY he chose to do this, but it was his prerogative. The day they found him not there was jarring to say the least.

Ivan walked down the steps, hate radiating off of him every step of the way. He stopped and stood in front of the cage there.

“So, I found him. I know you killed him.” He said, fists clenched. Quiet rolled over in her cot and sat up to look at him skeptically. “I know you know who I’m talking about. Does this face ring a bell?” He tossed some old pictures to her, disgust on his face. Quiet picked them up and studied them. Two people were in the picture, and one of them was clearly a MUCH younger Raikov. The other was a much taller man with scars on his face and short blonde hair. He did look familiar, but… Quiet looked at the next picture, and her eyes widened. In the picture, stood Raikov, smiling broadly with his arm around a girl. The girl was… Quiet. That was all she could think to describe her. Same face, same brown hair, same green eyes… The only difference was that she was wearing clothes that covered her more, and her hair was shorter. Quiet’s hands shook, and she looked up at Raikov.

And slowly but surely, like a photo lens coming into focus, she recognized Ivan. Not just his face, but who he was to her. And like a flood of water after a dam breaks, a flood of memories hit her directly afterwards. Suddenly, she felt it all come back. She remembered everything she had done, all the ways she had betrayed them… She looked into the eyes of a broken man, and wished desperately that she could apologize, that she could tell him she was a different person now… But she couldn’t. Not without killing him, anyway. Raikov tossed a final picture at her, and she looked at. It appeared to be Volgin, but it was as if he was charred. She put a hand over her mouth and looked up at Raikov with tears in her eyes. She wished she could tell him that someone else did it, that she would never brutalize someone like that…

But she wasn’t sure if that was the truth.

“I’m leaving this place. When you’re ready to own up to what you did, you can find me here. I’ll be waiting, and then we can finally end this once and for all.” He tossed a piece of paper at her and left. Quiet picked it up and unfolded it. The paper had a map scribbled on it. It would be easy enough to find… But… Did she really want to fight him?  



	15. Chapter 15

**July 29 th, 1984, 12:00 AM  
Showdown**

Quiet could never go back. She knew this now, and as she walked, her tired, beaten body threatened to give out on her. Still, she pushed on. She had to find Raikov; she had to tell him the truth. Finally, coughing and breathing hard, she found where she was supposed to meet him.

“So, you finally decided to show up.” He said, checking his gun and turning around to face her. Quiet tossed her gun to the side and held up her arms.

“Look, I don’t give a damn anymore. Just kill me. I’m done choosing sides. I’m done with the whole damn thing. Just… Shoot me. If what you’re looking for is revenge… here I am.” She said with certain finality. Ivan looked at her and held up his gun, face stony. He wanted to pull the trigger, he wanted to watch the life leave her eyes, but… His hands shook. As he looked at her now, he saw the sadness in her eyes. He lowered his gun, biting his cheek.

“What… What happened back there?” He asked.

“Does it matter?” Quiet laughed sadly, dropping her hands. A tear rolled down her cheek. “Does it really fucking matter at this point? Look, I can’t go back, and neither can you, so let’s just end it now.”

The silence seemed to go on for an eternity. Ivan let his mind work over her words. Finally, he thought of something to say. God, did he hate himself for even thinking it, but… They were two of the same, really… Torn up by fate, betrayed, and somehow they’d both ended up here, together. And Ivan was so, so tired of being alone, wasn’t he? Tired enough to kiss his own brother. Tired enough to want Death as a companion. Ivan took a deep breath and dropped his gun, cursing.

“We don’t… have to kill each other.”

“What?” Quiet asked, astonished.

“We could leave, you and me. We could be outsiders together.” Another silence.

“You’re serious?” Quiet said, looking at him skeptically.

“Look, the way I see it… I hate to say this but… You’re not Katya anymore. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not the woman who betrayed me. Revenge isn’t worth anything if you’re not the person you once were. So, what I’m saying is… Fuck it, right? Why not?” Ivan shrugged. Quiet took a few steps forward and eyed the man who came here planning to kill her, and was now offering to run way with her. Looking into his eyes… He seemed sincere… Quiet sighed and then laughed sadly, and Ivan joined her. He sighed and wiped a tear from his eye, looking into the moonlit eyes of his new companion.

“I guess we should find me a cure then, shouldn’t we?” Quiet said, running her fingers through her hair.

“Funny you should mention that… I stole these in case I needed them.” Ivan said, holding up what looked like a jar full of clear liquid and a box.

“You didn’t…”

“I did. There’s a few syringes in this box, so we should both be good.” He chuckled. Quiet shook her head and smiled.

“Well isn’t that convenient. Look at you, thinking of everything.” Quiet said, holding out her arm, “Well, go on. Shoot me up.”  
***

Ivan and Quiet walked along under the moonlight, which was quickly disappearing to make way for the sun. They stopped at the edge of a town, and looked ahead at the sunrise: the dawn of new lives for both of them.

“So, where are we going?” Ivan asked.

“I don’t know. I hear France is nice this time of year.” Quiet replied, shrugging. Ivan smiled to himself and reached over, slipping his hand in hers.

“It is.”  



	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end.

*** **EPILOGUE: ONE YEAR LATER*****

Ivan put the phone in their shared apartment down, and looked at Quiet. She sat on the couch, lazily reading a newspaper.

“I just got off the phone with my brothers.” He announced.

“No shit? The one who disowned you for being gay?” She replied, not looking up.

“Yes, _that_ brother.” Ivan huffed, sitting on the chair across from her. “He wants to know when the wedding is.” Quiet looked up and flipped her paper closed.

“I’m sorry, did you tell him we were getting married? Because you’re gay, and I have no interest in you. I’m not gonna be your pretend wife to get on his good side.”

“No! I would never! I just said I was living with you and described you and now he thinks we should get married!” Ivan sighed, rubbing his temples.

“You don’t wanna get married, do you?” Quiet asked.

“No! But… Look, Quiet… I miss my brothers a lot… I want to get back in their good graces, and-!”

“You think marrying me will solve your problems?”

Silence. Ivan sighed.

“I’m being stupid, right? I’ll call him back, and-”

“Well I don’t care. We can get married and not have it mean anything, right? It’s not like I’m saving myself for anyone. Besides, doesn’t marriage give us like, financial benefits or insurance or something? I’m willing to elope if you are.” She shrugged.

“Seriously?” Ivan asked, looking up.

“Yeah. Like, how about a month from now? We can go up to the courthouse, you can rent a tux, invite your family, the whole shebang. Go call him back.”

“Okay!” Ivan beamed, thrilled at the concept of his family’s acceptance.

This union was crazy, and really out of left field, but…he missed his family.

Besides, he had nothing left to lose.   
***

“You ever think about kids?” Quiet asked one day, fiddling with the plain silver band on her finger.

“Sometimes,” Ivan replied, not looking up from washing the dishes, “what about them?”

“Like, having them. Not with me, necessarily, but… When you were with… Him?” She muttered. Ivan stopped suddenly and turned off the sink, pulling his hands out of the water and dried them.

“I guess so. I never thought I’d get married anyway, I guess. He always said he wasn’t the marrying type, but… I know he had a wife before I was even born. Me or Aly or Stas. His wife and daughter… Something happened to them, so he left his old house and ended up in Belarus, where I grew up. He became friends with my mama and papa, and… Well, we were born, and things took their course. But I remember… I think it was a day or so before he went into a coma, he asked me to marry him. I never knew if he meant it, but… I like to think he did, you know? But anyway, I don’t think I ever seriously thought about kids. Why do you ask?” He said.

“Oh, nothing. Just something I’ve been thinking about. I don’t know. What do you think? I’ve always kinda wanted to be a mom. I don’t wanna make you feel like you have to or anything, but… I dunno. Thought I’d ask. Just forget it.” She murmured, waving her hand dismissively. Ivan looked at her, and sighed, sitting next to her.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I’m not saying it’ll be easy for me to… You know… Erm… For a woman… But… We could try.” He said. Quiet looked up at him and chuckled.

“Yeah, we could try.”  
***

They named him Jack. He was born on a cold, rainy afternoon in Liberia. They’d been there for a vacation, and ended up deciding to stay. He was born with Ivan’s silvery blonde hair and baby blue eyes, and they loved him with all their hearts.  
***

The little boy with silvery blonde hair and baby blue eyes shook like a leaf, hiding under his parents’ bed. Someone had come into their house, made a lot of noise, and… Mama and Papa weren’t moving… There was red everywhere… Jack whimpered and covered his eyes, crying softly into the carpet. He just wanted Mama to hold him and sing softly to him like she always did…he wanted Papa to swing him around in his arms and make him laugh… Suddenly, he saw a pair of boots in front of him, and the boy quivered. A man with dark hair knelt down and smiled when he saw the boy under the bed. He pulled Jack out by the arm and picked him up.

“There you are… My, you’re a cutie. What’s your name?” the man asked.

“J-J-J-Jack…” The child murmured, sniffling.

“Oh, now don’t cry, little one. I’m your godfather! I’m here to protect you! Your parents asked me to!”

“Really?” Jack turned to look where his Mama and Papa had been lying, but his godfather turned his face back towards him before he could see their prone forms.

“Of course! Don’t worry little one, Papa is here… I promise, I’ll keep you safe…”

Jack didn’t feel safe, by any means, but if his Mama and Papa trusted this man…

Why shouldn’t he?

 

**THE END.**


End file.
